


This is Fine

by PuddingTown



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, M/M, Modern Era, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Superpowers, Teen Angst, ianowt au, no you don't need to know about the show to understand this cause I basically made it my own thing, very mild but still there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24486025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuddingTown/pseuds/PuddingTown
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak isn’t asking for much - at least he doesn’t think so.He wants his mom to stop smothering him. He wants to pretend his medication is still real. He wants his best friend to stop blowing him off. He wants to feel normal.He wants everyone to stop asking if he’s okay.He wants his dad back.He wants to stop making weird shit happen with his mind powers.That really isn’t… too much to ask for. Right?
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Reddie - Relationship
Comments: 123
Kudos: 511





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A little self-indulgent AU for Eddie Kaspbrak, directly inspired by I Am Not Okay With This. Enjoy (or don't, but like, that's none of my business I guess).

_Dear diary,_

_Fuck whoever said diaries are for girls. Fuck my stupid guidance counselor for thinking this would be helpful. And maybe I shouldn’t say fuck so much, but fuck off! It’s my fucking diary, isn’t it?_

Eddie scrawled the first few lines furiously in the cat-printed notebook given to him earlier in the day. On the opposite side of the living room, semi-relaxed in her recliner, Sonia Kaspbrak eyed her son suspiciously. To her knowledge, he had never written before, unless it was for a school assignment. He didn’t tell stories – nor had she encouraged such nonsense.

“Eddie-bear, what are you writing in?” she asked, her tone tooth-rottingly sweet. She sounded how Pepto Bismol looked; Eddie snickered at the thought, but disguised it with a cough. Setting his pen down, he closed the book.

The cat on the cover was holding on to a tightrope, with comically large eyes as it desperately kept from falling. He couldn’t explain why it was cute, or funny. Or how the industry pumping out cat merchandise like this was profiting so well.

But that was neither here nor there for him.

“Uh… diary,” he said, licking his lips before returning to the entry. Sonia frowned, her brow furrowing.

“Diaries are for girls though, Eddie,” she commented. Her tone was almost questioning; she was goading for a response. In their house, it was only the two of them, so options for conversation were limited. Eddie sighed, closing the diary once more.

“Journal, then,” he mumbled. Glancing at his mother, he waited for whatever else she had to critique. She stared at him with the same thinning patience, and Eddie (of course) caved first. “Ms. Farber wants me to keep it as a form of therapy. At least temporarily – we’re only testing this whole… writing method.” Sonia’s mouth twisted. Eddie could see her thinking over her next response.

She had the option of being unreasonable; she was the one who pushed for him to forego a P.E. class in favor of grief counseling. If she wanted to be upset over something she asked for, then Eddie wouldn’t complain. Perhaps another fit from Ms. Kaspbrak would get him out of both gym and “therapy.”

_Poor Ms. Farber didn’t take this job to talk to a basket case mother and a grieving son. She just wanted to gossip with the girls and relive her teenage years._

Eddie grimaced at the thought of her office; she had a bubblegum pink rug underneath the chairs where the students sat, and framed photos of herself in a cheerleader uniform. Her note-taking pen was tipped with a fuzzy periwinkle puffball, which frequently shed strands on his pink slips that excused him from class. She graduated eighteen years ago from Derry High, shortly before the idea of Eddie existed, and sometimes it showed. Painfully.

While her intentions were well-meaning, he knew that his fucked up family situation was far beyond her pay grade.

“Farber, was it? Alyssa Farber…” Sonia said, reading from her phone. Eddie breathed sharply through his nose, the stench of their TV dinners only a secondary thought. He watched his mother squint and scrutinize a photo of his counselor, preparing for her next onslaught of opinions. Grabbing his fork, he poked at the cold, flavorless meat on his tray. The gravy didn’t taste half bad, and at least the mashed potatoes could pass for real food. “She’s that new-age hippie they hired, isn’t she? Aren’t there any other counselors who could help you?” Sonia huffed, adjusting in her chair.

“No, Mom,” Eddie sighed, keeping his head down. Whenever Sonia wanted to complain, she could steamroll anyone with the grievances. Usually, Frank would step in and distract her until the mood passed. Then they would be free to watch TV like a family.

But Frank was never going to rescue Eddie from his mother again.

_Nothing with Mom has been the same since Dad died._

He didn’t realize he was staring at her until a moment too late. Sonia stopped speaking, huffing angrily as she turned up the volume on the television.

“She’s thirty-something and not even married,” Sonia mumbled, her last comment before tuning back into the show. Eddie looked without truly seeing, his mind elsewhere as his pen hovered over the page. The ink was leaving small dots as it bled into the paper, but he didn’t move his hand.

Loving his mother was complicated. There were days he would hear her singing along to the radio, and smell freshly baked banana bread – those were the best, because he remembered his childhood. He remembered the excitement he felt when he ran down the stairs, greeted by her warm and loving voice and a fresh breakfast.

Then there were days like this; Sonia hated keeping her mouth shut. She exercised her right to free speech constantly, denying that she didn’t also have freedom of consequence. She liked to call his generation (not Eddie, but the whole generation around him) degenerates, who wanted nothing but handouts. He figured the only reason she didn’t use terms like “snowflake,” was solely because she desperately wanted to believe he _was_ one.

_If it weren’t for Dad, I probably would’ve never played little league, or driven the car through the neighborhood. But now he’s dead and the basement is an uninhabitable mess that I haven’t been allowed to go through since._

Shutting his diary, Eddie wordlessly took his tray into the kitchen. Scraping the food into the trash, he threw the dish in the sink, holding his breath as he left through the hall. He didn’t _need_ to pass the basement door, but he couldn’t resist. It felt like saying goodnight to his dad.

Like a loophole to death.

Standing outside the door, his hands trembled. His fingertips twitched – there wasn’t anything stopping him _right now_ from taking a little peek.

Just a tiny one.

“Are you going to bed, Eddie?” Sonia called out. Instinctively, Eddie straightened up, nearly yanking himself away from the basement. Clearing his throat, he quickly positioned himself at the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah. G’night Mama,” he said, hurrying up to his room. When he closed the door behind him, he was tempted to lock it. However, he chickened out once more, knowing Sonia would only interrogate him in the morning. Sighing, he approached his desk, tossing the journal on top. His mind was on sleep – or at the very least, lying in comfort and thinking about it.

Pausing, he bent forward, catching sight of his neighbor through the window.

_Richie Tozier has lived next to me pretty much our entire lives. Mom can’t stand him, so we never hung out a lot. Since Dad died, he’s been trying to talk to me a little more. Not sure how I feel about that._

Eddie perched on top of his desk, his legs crossed and his diary now on his lap. He tapped his pen on his chin, half of his attention on the stars, and the rest on Richie. He danced erratically around his room; Eddie heard music faintly from his record player, but he couldn’t make out the song. More often than not, Sonia complained about the noise. She dubbed the offensive sound as “devil music,” although Eddie never bothered to listen for himself.

He could only assume she was exaggerating as per usual.

Watching Richie, he couldn’t help but chuckle. No matter what he did, he always had an air of freedom about him. Eddie had to wonder if Richie ever spied on him, though he knew there was nothing of interest going on. Their bedrooms faced each other since they were children; if there was any hope of them becoming friends, it was through their nightly notes.

_We used to throw wadded up paper balls back and forth with little messages on them. It was texting before cell phones, I guess. Mom never understood how I was so tired. I liked the tiny piece of rebellion I had with him by staying up late._

Unfortunately for their short-lived “friendship,” both of them grew out of their sleep-depriving communication. Richie spent more time outside the house, while Eddie spent more time with his parents. He envied Richie in that particular aspect; he wasn’t necessarily popular in Derry. Although he could’ve blamed Sonia for his lack of a social life, he knew better.

Admittedly, he liked keeping to himself. The majority of Derry didn’t quite match up to his standards.

With one final look at Richie, Eddie closed his diary and climbed off the desk. Below, the stairs creaked loud enough for him to hear. He was just in time; Sonia was coming to check on him. Swiftly, he hid under the covers, closing his eyes and pretending to sleep.

He didn’t realize how exhausted he was; only a few minutes passed before he completely faded out.

* * *

_Bill Denbrough is, quite literally, the only friend I have._

Since the second grade, Eddie connected with one person, and one person only. Bill Denbrough sat beside him through the entire year, and both of them were dubbed the losers of the class. His incessant stutter turned most people away, and it only stopped when he spoke painstakingly slow. Eddie seemed to be the sole person with the patience to listen to him.

“How was chemistry today, Eddie?” Bill asked, grinning as Eddie stepped out of his last class of the day. Rolling his eyes so hard they began to ache, he shook his head. Glancing over his shoulder, he met his teacher’s gaze. Bill leaned in, mumbling under his breath, “Mr. Sheldon has a crush on you.” Gagging, Eddie pushed Bill away, joining in his laughter only seconds later as they left the building.

Carefully standing on the back spokes of his bike, his hand on Bill’s shoulders, Eddie smiled as they rode off towards the Barrens. Sonia despised the idea of him playing there when he was smaller, as the underbrush and wildlife was uncontrolled and unmaintained, but that only made him crave it more. He was fearless when he played there with Bill.

These days, they were too old for “playing,” but the Barrens was the only place they could hang out in peace.

_He’s the only one who knows how to talk to me since Dad died. Everyone else is too sweet, as if I’ll burst into tears at any given moment._

“What’d you wanna do today? We’ve got a whole three day weekend ahead of us,” Eddie said, a smile stretching across his face. Lately, he was able to spend more time at Bill’s house. Sonia preoccupied herself with work on the weekends; she was a nurse at Derry Medical Center, working nights since she proclaimed she didn’t need much sleep.

It used to be that Frank would be up with Eddie in the mornings, and Sonia would join them later in the day.

Now, all they had were microwave dinners and the game show network.

“We can try that game I found,” Bill suggested, eagerness in his voice. Eddie forced a smile, and it must’ve been convincing enough, because Bill continued. “I found a guide for each girl; Stephanie is the easiest, but Ashley’s the hottest. Not sure how difficult her route is.” Nodding, feigning interest, Eddie blew out a gust of air and stared at the long stretch of road ahead of them. Bill stopped at the intersection, both he and Eddie hopping off of the bike.

As strong as he was, he could only drive the both of them for so long on old Silver.

Biting his lip, Eddie studied Bill for a moment. Over the summer, Bill appeared to have undergone a _second_ puberty. Both he and Eddie experienced the strange, natural changes as described in their sex education class, but Eddie noticed more in Bill since school picked up again. His arms were more toned, and his face had lost any and all roundness.

_I don’t really find those video game girls hot. They’re not real. The game is just playable porn; it’s weird. I wish Bill wasn’t so obsessed with it. “Ashley’s hot.” Whatever. I don’t know what I find hot. The only person that comes to mind is Bill, but… that’s just cause I’m thinking about him and this stupid game._

“We can go with Ashley’s route. She’s the one with the mean sister, right?” Eddie asked, innocently enough. Truth be told, he couldn’t have cared less.

Behind them, a horn honked. As Eddie turned, he realized spending time with Bill (even playing a perverted, sexist video game) was better than what approached them. He grimaced, but Bill paid no mind. The worst part was seeing the corners of his mouth go up. His entire demeanor changed as Greta Keene pulled up in her shiny, baby blue convertible.

Her father, Norbert Keene, was the sole pharmacist in town. He bought the car for Greta’s seventeenth birthday last year, and Eddie remained convinced that his mother paid a large portion. She spent so much on medications, she could’ve single-handedly kept Keene in business. Frank had never been fond of him, but Sonia swore up and down he was nothing but helpful (unlike the doctors she worked for, who wouldn't know a dead person from a living one).

“Hey Denbrough,” Greta greeted, flashing a weirdly smug smile at Bill as she lowered her sunglasses. Bill rested his arm on the edge of her car, leaning down to be closer, as if their conversation was meant to be private from Eddie. His eyes narrowed, and he swore he saw Greta flash a teasing look at him. “Sally Meuller’s parents are gone for the weekend, so she’s throwing a party tonight. I was gonna go pick up a new outfit; you wanna tag along?” She stared at Bill while talking, doing a pretty decent job of boxing Eddie out completely.

“Oh, I-” Bill cut himself off, turning to face Eddie. Behind him, Greta sneered, as if to say: _I’m stealing your friend, loser._

“You… wanna go?” Eddie asked tentatively, hoping Bill would change his mind. Instead, his eyes became pleading, his brows rising and knitting together. Eddie couldn’t hide the disappointment, nor did he feel like trying. He hated parties, and he hated nearly everyone in their school. He hated the idea of getting drunk, because he wasn’t confident enough in himself to predict what he would do. Sighing, his shoulders slumping, he finally nodded. “Fine-”

Cutting himself off, he crossed his arms. Bill was already putting his bike in the back of Greta’s car, before he had even answered. The sigh apparently said enough for him. He aimed to reach for the handle of the backseat door, but Greta cleared her throat. Bill paused, halfway in the passenger seat.

“There’s no more room, baby,” she said, the false sweetness in her voice reminding him of his mother. He nearly shuddered at the thought, his mouth twisting into a pout. Bill hesitated, glancing from his bike to Eddie. He didn’t sit down, giving Eddie the slightest sliver of hope. However, he couldn’t deny that Bill obviously wanted to go – with or without him.

“Whatever. I have stuff to do. Have a good time, Bill,” he said, offering a smile at the very end to ease Bill’s guilt. When Bill slumped in the seat, Eddie stared down at the pavement. It sucked. It stung worse than any bug bite – which sadly was the worst pain he’d suffered through in his short life, thanks to Sonia’s (s)mothering.

Bill glanced at his bike again, his brow furrowed as he thought. Even if he chose to forgo the party, Eddie knew their night would be full of Bill being distracted by the _idea_ of it. Neither of them were cool enough to be invited before, but since his second wave of puberty, he gained much more attention.

_I miss when I was the only one who liked Bill._

“Take another one of those sugar pills and relax, Kaspbrak. You look like you could use the night off,” Greta teased, although Bill didn’t seem to realize what she was doing. He waved, opening his mouth to say goodbye, but she sped off before he could.

From where he stood, he could hear her giggle, and see her reach out to touch Bill’s hair. He could even see the beginnings of a smile on Bill’s face. Eddie balled his hands into fists, feeling his nails pinch the skin of his palms. His brow furrowed as he glared at the custom license plate.

_She’s only into Bill because he’s my best friend.  
She’s only ever wanted to make me miserable, and I have no idea why.  
She just hates me. She’s a bitch. She’s the worst!_

Eddie could feel the anger rising in his chest. He wanted to scream. All Greta Keene did, as far back as first grade, was bully him. She was the first to do it, and make it cool. Surely Bill hadn’t forgotten about that, right?

As Greta turned the corner on Costello Avenue, there was a loud pop, and she shrieked. Her wheels screeched, and Eddie saw the back tire flopping like a wet paper towel. Suddenly aware of himself, he looked around to see who else had witnessed the accident. Gulping, he hurriedly turned his back on Greta and Bill, walking towards his house in the opposite direction.

_Funny joke for the day: I almost convinced myself that I blew up Greta’s tire with my mind. But that kind of shit is impossible, isn’t it? Super funny, Eddie. Your imagination is so stale. I gotta exercise it more._

He supposed the polite thing to do would’ve been to stay and see if they needed help, but he didn’t want to. Greta carried a strange, seemingly personal vendetta against Eddie – one which he couldn’t explain, despite how hard he used to try. If she wanted to despise him for simply existing, she would have to get in line. There were plenty of people in Derry who gave Eddie hell.

His chemistry teacher – a one, bitter, old Mr. Randall Sheldon – always accused him of “getting into tomfoolery and shenanigans,” much like his father. Eddie knew nothing of such antics, but if he so much as dropped his pencil, Mr. Sheldon was there with a threat of detention.

Then there was Officer Bowers. His son was a local psychopath, who spent a majority of his time with other psychos in town. Bill would joke that they were starting a crime ring, where the most money they would ever make off this town would be a whopping hundred dollars. None of them were quite bright enough to go any bigger. The crazy, stupid apple didn’t fall far from the crazy, stupid tree. Both Bowers men were the last of their clan, fortunately. No woman was dumb enough to stick by them; Butch typically only harassed them… and then Eddie.

He _also_ cited Frank Kaspbrak as the reason he gave Eddie so much crap, but yet again, Eddie knew nothing of what he referred to. Since Frank’s death, Eddie was learning more about him than he had his whole life. It was enough to drive anyone crazy, and it was truly beginning to piss him off.

_It’s been six months and I don’t remember what life was like before Dad died. None of my memories feel real; they’re all too distant. Like they all belong to someone else, and I’ve just been a stranger in my own body. Not to get like, stupidly poetic and emo or whatever._

With his house in sight, Eddie continued speed walking. He didn’t care if Bill and Greta were two blocks behind him; he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was at risk of getting caught. For what, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to risk anything.

His paranoia had spiked in the past few months. He jumped at his own shadow, stuck in the strange sensation that he was being watched. His counselor, and the therapist that Sonia briefly hired, both claimed this was a by-product of his grief… but he couldn’t be too sure anymore. For the most part, he felt fine. Eddie could talk about Frank’s death with ease – nonchalance, even. There were nights in the beginning where he woke up crying, which he found strange, since his dreams were never sad.

Regardless, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong with him.

He hoped it was _his_ second wave of puberty.

“Hey, Eds!” a strange voice called out, stopping Eddie dead in his tracks. He grimaced at the nickname, tilting his head. His house was right next door; he was _so close_ to the solace of his bedroom, but Richie Tozier’s house was the last one in his way. They lived adjacent to each other, sharing the corner of Jackson Street and one of the smaller “no-name” roads in Derry. “How’s it going this fine Friday, Eddie-spaghetti?”

A medium-sized Kermit the Frog doll popped up on the edge of the fence. Eddie’s brow rose, and he glanced over the puppet to see Richie crouched on the ground. He met Eddie’s gaze and flashed a toothy grin, waving his Kermit toy back and forth. Unable to resist, Eddie cracked a smile.

“That sounds more like Ernie from Sesame Street than it does Kermit,” he teased, rolling his eyes as he started to walk again. Richie quickly stood up, his mouth twisted into a pout as he stared at Kermit. Clearing his throat, he tossed the doll aside, and Eddie paused again to stare at it lying face down in the grass.

“Ernie’s funnier anyway,” he said, before quickly doing the voice again and adding, “Isn’t that right, Bert?” This time, Eddie laughed. Richie smiled at the positive reaction, hoisting himself over his fence. He wobbled when he landed on the sidewalk, pinwheeling his arms to maintain balance. Once he was secure, he pushed up his glasses and nodded towards his house. “You doing anything tonight?”

Immediately, Eddie wanted to say yes. He didn’t necessarily dislike Richie. Both of them were losers; Richie had even less friends than he did, which left him at a whopping zero. Of course, Richie Tozier always seemed popular to Eddie. He was weird, and definitely marched to the beat of his own drum, but he was also friendly. Just friendly enough to fraternize with everyone – and not just everyone who mattered, but _actually_ everyone.

From the weird band kids, like Stan Uris and Beverly Marsh, to the more popular jocks like Mike Hanlon and Ben Hanscom, Richie fit with them easily. He was a social chameleon, the exact opposite of Eddie.

“Why?” Eddie asked, the word falling from his tongue before he could catch it. Richie clearly didn’t expect that response, and now both of them were floundering.

Scratching the back of his head, he glanced back at his house and said, “Just… to hang out. Mom and Dad are having a date night, so I’m making my famous hot dog nachos. Plus, we just got HBO, and I think the Blair Witch is coming on. That’s… pretty cool.” Eddie struggled to hide his disgust; he wasn’t sure if there was some secret to the food Richie proposed, but he imagined not.

“Uh-”

“Eddie-bear!” Sonia’s sing-song voice cut through the silence between them. Eddie straightened up, glancing over to see his mother on the edge of their porch. She beckoned him towards her with a smile, and he held back his sigh of relief. More than anything, he wanted to be alone. He couldn’t convey that lately without raising red flags for everyone who insisted they cared about his emotional well-being.

“Sorry, I gotta go. Rain check, I guess?” Eddie asked, though he had little intention of rescheduling. Richie nodded, waving as Eddie left for his house. Sonia’s eyes were on him the entire way, and she ushered him inside. Her phony smile didn’t falter until the front door shut, and they were in the safety and privacy of their own home.

“I don’t want you talking to that _Tozier_ boy,” Sonia said, sneering his name. Eddie nodded dismissively, heading into the kitchen. Sonia followed right behind him, one hand on her hip, the other covering her mouth. She peeked through the small curtains on the kitchen window, pulling back when Richie looked up. Huffing, she turned back to her son. “He’s a degenerate. No good. I can _smell_ him from here; he does drugs, I’m sure of it.” She continued to list the reasons Richie Tozier was an awful boy, but Eddie wasn’t listening.

He chuckled to himself, tapping the top of his soda can before cracking it open. His eyes were on the orange canister, perched neatly atop the microwave.

That particular bottle held his medicine, which he had been taking his whole life. According to his mother, Eddie always had trouble sleeping. She spoke with her boss about the issue, and he prescribed a child-friendly aide. Since then, his sleeping was perfect and undisturbed. She claimed that another helpful effect of the pills were the decreases to any anxiety.

For a long time, this kept Eddie happy.

His mother was a registered nurse; he had no reason to _not_ trust her.

_I stopped taking my medication five months ago. Maybe that’s what changed me. Maybe it wasn’t Dad dying. I can’t remember life before these stupid pills._

Greta Keene joked with him earlier about his meds, because she knew. She was the one who had told him the truth.

He couldn’t quite recall the day, but he remembered school hadn’t ended yet. Bill was sick at home, and when the bell released Eddie from his last class, he rode his bike into town alone. His mother gave him a grocery list, since she was needed at the hospital for a double shift. He thought he would be an extra good boy, and pick up their prescriptions from Keene’s store.

Greta was at the counter, and he reluctantly gave his information for the order.

As she rang up his total, adding the sum to his mother’s tab, she squinted at the labels. Eddie clearly recalled the sickeningly pleased smile that stretched across her face. The skin was pulled so tight, he swore the little zit on her cheek would burst.

She handed over the paper bag and said, _“Your pills are bullshit, you know that right?”_

The words echoed in Eddie’s head to this day. For the first few days after their interaction, he assumed she was only messing with him.

“ _Whatever, Greta.”  
“I’m serious, loser. Google that name on the label. It’s just a sugar pill. Dad gives them to old ladies and headcases that think they’re dying.”_

Eddie lied in his bed for the first night, debating whether or not he should fall for what was probably nothing more than a stupid prank. On the third day, he finally caved. He grabbed the bottle and searched on his phone (using incognito mode, just in case Sonia could somehow access his history). Glancing over his shoulder intermittently as he read, he dropped the bottle when he reached the end.

_I put the pill in my mouth, but I hide it under my tongue. I spit it in the toilet when I go upstairs. Mom hasn’t suspected anything. I’m not sure if I’m angry yet – I’m still just confused. A placebo sorta makes sense to make a rowdy kid to relax, but I honestly don’t remember ever having trouble sleeping._

Of course he would find it amusing for Sonia to detest Richie over alleged drug use. She was the one drugging her own son.

“I swear I’ve seen him sneaking out at all hours of the night; his parents are useless letting that boy loose on the town!” she complained, removing their frozen dinners from the ice box. She unwrapped one, preparing to heat it up. Eddie was still focused on his medicine as she griped.

Her voice faded into the background with the whirring and buzz of the microwave. The tray inside rotated slowly, the chocolate pudding bubbling as the seconds ticked by.

_I hate that stupid orange bottle. I hate the Keene’s. I hate these awful frozen dinners._

Eddie’s brow twitched.

Frank used to do all the cooking; Sonia couldn’t fix a meal to save her life. She was better suited for baking; an activity which they used to do together. Meanwhile, his dad cooked, and Eddie would do his homework at the kitchen table, sometimes offering to help with dinner. He would talk to Frank without a care in the world, whether it be about school, Bill, or life in general. Everything seemed so simple then. Frank listened intently, always having the perfect advice.

And Eddie always took it to heart.

_I miss Dad. I can’t talk to Mom about anything, or she’ll explode. Well, fuck, I feel like **I’m** gonna explode. I can’t talk to anyone, so I’m stuck writing everything in a stupid diary. Maybe that’s what I’ll use this damn thing for. I’ll just complain and complain, because no one can tell me to shut up._

_So here’s the fucking highlights:_

_First, Dad died in a freak explosion, and now I’m stuck with my increasingly insufferable mom. She’s driving me crazy; I never realized how much I relied on my dad to balance her out._

_Second, my only friend got hot, and I don’t know if it’s weird that I think that? He’s also spending way too much time with the person I hate most, and if they become a couple, I’m gonna scream until my lungs give out._

_Third, my medication that I’ve taken my whole life is bullshit, and I can’t figure out why Mom would keep lying to me. I’m stuck in a house with someone I don’t know if I trust._

_I really am gonna explode soon._

Eddie’s hands tightened into fists again. The plastic was burning; the stench rapidly filled his nostrils. He wished the microwave would finally just blow a fuse and stop working-

“Oh!” Sonia yelped as the microwave began crackling. She pushed one of the buttons, but yanked her hand back rapidly. The small window cracked, and the door suddenly flew off the hinges, clattering on the ground. The bulb inside had burst, and Eddie staggered back. “Eddie, don't come near! There’s glass.” She searched the kitchen for the broom, hurriedly sweeping the mess into the dustpan.

_Oh yeah._

_Fourth, I think there’s something **really** fucking wrong with me. I think I keep blowing shit up with my mind._


	2. Chapter 2

“Eddie-bear! Honeybunch, you’re gonna be late for school!” Sonia called out. She stood at the foot of the stairs, her hands clasped together in front of her thick waist. Studying his reflection, Eddie huffed and ran his fingers through his hair. It didn’t change much. Still fell flat. At the very least, he noticed the ends around his neck beginning to curl.

_Mom’s probably gonna make us an appointment at the salon soon._

Sighing, he trudged downstairs, slinging his book bag over his shoulder. He was used to Sonia dictating a majority of his life. From how his hair was cut, to the clothes he wore, Sonia usually took care of the options before he could wise up and realize he _had_ them.

_She claims she likes to do things herself, and she’s just independent like that, but she never does anything alone. She always dragged me or Dad along… or made us feel bad if we left her to do stuff by herself. I’m wearing the same clothes from freshman year, because I don’t want her to pick out anything else, but she refuses to let me go on my own. It's not like I'm gonna spend thousands on designer junk._

While they never explicitly laid out these terms of not shopping together, Eddie supposed it went without saying. He hadn’t grown out of the clothes yet, and while he _was_ given an allowance, he saved it for emergencies. All his life, he never thought out what the emergency was, but lately, he couldn’t help thinking about the possibilities.

_In case I need to just… get away, quick…_

“I’ll see you later, Ma,” Eddie said, waving as he passed her. However, his mother reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. For a split second, he considered resisting. The moment was brief, though, and passed through him with a chill. It would’ve been more dramatic than it needed to be on a Wednesday morning.

“Hold on, here,” Sonia said, taking Eddie’s hand and placing a folded bill onto his palm. She closed his fingers around it, patting his arm. “Pick up our prescriptions after school, please. I have to go in tonight, and I doubt I’ll have time. You can get yourself something while you’re out.” She tacked on the last line as if it would encourage him to agree.

As if he had a choice.

Nodding, he tucked the money in his pocket.

“Sure thing, Ma. Thanks,” he said, earning a kiss to the top of his head. Eddie fought the urge to make a face, waving as he left.

Though the paper was virtually weightless, he could feel it slowing him down. Biting his lip, he stole a glance back at his house as he turned the corner. Sonia peeked through the curtains, keeping her watchful eyes on him until he disappeared in front of the Tozier house.

_Living with Ma hasn’t always been like this. She let’s me go out; I just… don’t. She likes to give me money to buy things if she sends me on errands. That all just... goes into the savings jar. I guess I could use it for college._

The more he attempted to find examples of loving his mother, the harder it became to find a substantial memory. She loved him with money and treats, and he wasn’t convinced that counted anymore. With Frank, he never doubted he was loved. There was never a time he had to think twice about what he said, or be careful with how he made his father feel. With Sonia, nothing _except_ for how she felt mattered. He saw the same dynamic between her and Frank. Regardless of who was at fault, he always seemed to do the apologizing.

Eddie recalled that he had once told him: _“You have to pick your battles, son.”_

For the longest time, he had never been sure of what that meant.

Shaking his head, Eddie slowed his pace to a complete stop when he reached the Tozier garage. The metal door was pulled up, but no one was inside. Richie’s van – which was somehow the cleanest thing he owned – sat idly in the center. Either it was broken for the day, or he was opting to be late for school. Eddie supposed it was the latter option, since he’d seen Richie, Stan Uris, and Mike Hanlon all working on the vehicle from time to time.

For the second time in the last two weeks, Eddie felt a twinge of jealousy.

Richie knew how to connect with people in ways he couldn’t fathom. When he thought of Mike and Stan, he never imagined them hanging out. Stan was weird and artsy; he liked bird-watching, and if memory served Eddie right, he used to dream of being a park ranger. Mike, on the other hand, was set to go to the college of his choice. Sure, he had football as leverage, but he was also the smartest kid in their class. He was strange to Eddie too, but only in the fact that he _loved_ Derry, and wanted to stay.

Of course, it probably didn’t hurt that he was popular in town.

Eddie recalled being partnered with Mike for a project in their sophomore year. He was remarkably sweet, and held a multitude of ideas to choose from. They wound up going to Mike’s house to bake a completely edible project for the whole class to enjoy. On the way, Mike said hello and waved to everyone they passed, pausing on several occasions for quick conversation. People asked how his parents were, and how his studies were going.

However, he never once let Eddie feel as though he were being boxed out. Mike had the magical ability to always make everyone feel welcome, and Eddie rapidly grew fond of his talent.

_Mike deserves to be popular. He’s not rude like Greta or Sally Mueller or Peter Gordon. He’s fun and he likes everyone just cause he’s nice. We both like 80s music; I told him I listened to it the most when I baked with Ma._

He remembered when they finished baking, and Mike suggested they go for a swim in the pond near his house. The water was crystal clear; Eddie had never seen anything like it in town before. He recalled when Mike stripped down and jumped in, and how it made him feel-

_I keep thinking weird things about the guys in my life. I mean, I dunno. Not weird but… it feels weird. I think **everything** feels weird since Dad died. Whatever._

Shaking his head, he continued to walk.

Sonia didn’t trust him behind the wheel. Or rather, she claimed she couldn’t trust any of the other teenagers on the road. Eddie thought about the day Richie pulled out of the parking lot at school, blasting his stereo for everyone on campus to hear. He bumped into Mike’s truck, and although the damage was hardly there, it was still technically a collision.

Huffing, Eddie tried to shove the thoughts from his head. He was walking to school, and until he reached Bill’s street, he wouldn’t know if his best friend would be joining him. For the past couple days, Greta had been giving him a ride. Bill would send him a text at the last minute, when Eddie reached the edge of campus and already had a pretty decent idea that they wouldn’t be walking together. This, of course, was just Bill’s terrible texting habit.

But it didn’t curb Eddie’s annoyance.

As he reached the edge of the block, and Bill was nowhere in sight, Eddie gripped the strap of his satchel tighter. Biting the inside of his cheek, he looked up the road, hoping he might see Bill approaching from his house. Of course, he knew better. Bill was with Greta, yet a-fucking-gain.

He didn’t want to be angry. Nor did he want to acknowledge how the pebbles around his feet appeared to be quaking.

_Just stop, just stop, just STOP-_

“Edward-spaghedward!” Richie Tozier shouted from behind him, honking his obnoxious custom horn. The muffler on his van rattled as he slowed to a stop. His arm, and a good portion of his torso, was hanging from the window. His goofy smile stretched from ear to ear, and he pat the side of his van. “You need a ride, man?” Immediately, Eddie became hesitant.

Glancing down the street, he half expected to see Sonia, with her hands on her hips and a furious disapproval on her face – as if accepting the ride would be a sacrilegious act against her, and everything she’d built in his life. Licking his lips, he looked back at Richie and shrugged.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said. Walking around the front of the van, he saw Richie leaning over to open the passenger door. He assumed it was to be polite, until he realized the outside handle was missing. Reluctance set in, but Eddie was too big of a chicken to back out now.

Plus, the desire rising in his stomach was too great to ignore. He couldn’t lie to himself this time; he was excited as he climbed into the crummy van. Even though he grimaced at the torn fabric on the seats, and the mysterious stains all over them, his heartbeat picked up in a strangely positive way. A smile spread across his face – one which he couldn’t fight, nor did he want to.

“You don’t mind music, do you?” Richie asked, his phone in hand. His thumb hovered over the play button, and Eddie was pleasantly surprised by his courteousness.

“Nah, go ahead. It’s your car,” he replied, feeling for the seat belt. He pulled the strap across his body, his eyes slightly widening when the buckle wouldn’t click. Clasping his hand around it, he held on firmly, not wanting to vocalize his horror. He would at least wait until Richie’s driving became reckless.

Starting his playlist, Richie tossed the phone between them, turning the volume up on his stereo. At first, there was more static than music, but even when the song clearly came through, Eddie wasn’t sure what to make of it. Staring at the radio, his mouth twisted into a small pout, he tried to decipher the words. Richie clearly noticed his expression, because he was quick to adjust the volume again.

“You ever heard of these guys?” he questioned. Eddie shook his head, but Richie’s smile never wavered. “Not many people have. Fun little piece of trivia: they got their name from the U.K. version of The Office. One dude says ‘Does it offend you, yeah?’ and the lead singer just happened to tune in at that part.” He paused, allowing Eddie a chance to respond, but all he could do was offer a smile. This didn’t deter Richie though – and Eddie didn’t truly want it too. Just because he sucked at conversation, didn’t mean Richie had to be stuck in awkward silence. “What about TFB?” Again, Eddie shook his head, but this time with more confusion in his eyes.

“That’s a band?” he asked, somewhat incredulous. Richie snickered, tapping the wheel.

“They’ll come on next, probably. I only listen to those two bands lately. Sprinkles of ska, here and there. Those are the true punk rockers,” Richie claimed proudly. He drove them through the back roads, avoiding the little traffic there was in the center of town. Eddie wondered if they would still be late, but realized the majority of him didn’t care. “DIOYY has a secret album that’s not on Spotify – I mean, people know about it, I’m sure, but only so many. It’s probably my favorite of all time.” Eddie’s lips parted; he wasn’t sure what he would say, though he figured it was better than nothing.

“Do you ever have to think about what the acronym for the band name is, before you say it? D-O-Y… err, D-I? That’s a mouthful, I guess,” Eddie commented. Nodding, Richie waved his hand in a “kinda/sorta” motion.

“I’ve been a fan of them for years; I’m just used to saying it, at this point,” he explained. Returning his hand to the wheel, he suddenly slowed down. Eddie was about to question the motive, but then he saw the squad car in the corner of his eye.

Officer Butch Bowers leaned against the car, surveying everyone who passed the small cafe on the corner. Richie stared straight ahead, pretending he wasn’t even there as they drove by. Butch locked eyes with Eddie for a split second, and Eddie swore he saw his brow furrow. By the time he confirmed it with himself, they were already driving away. He didn’t dare twist around to check; he didn’t want to give Butch a reason to stop them.

“You’re not a fan of Mr. Bowers either, huh?” Eddie attempted to joke, and Richie scoffed.

“Fuck the police,” he said, holding up his middle finger. Instinctively, Eddie reached out to yank Richie’s hand down.

“Don’t!”

“What?” Richie quickly replaced his hand on the wheel. Eddie noticed he only used one now, and left the free one lying at his side.

“Aren’t you supposed to- you know, the whole ten and two thing?” he questioned. Richie’s brow cocked, and he threw a quick glance at Eddie. His face burned, and he looked down at his hands, one of which was still holding the broken seat belt in place.

“That’s a myth; people who drive with both hands can’t really drive,” he said, nonchalantly discrediting Sonia’s skills. Now that Eddie thought about it, Frank had driven the same way. He clearly recalled Sonia berating him for only using one hand – she claimed he was relinquishing control to any mad man on the road. “Hang on, this song is my favorite.” A different sound filled Eddie’s ears, and this time, he wasn’t instantly hit with the urge to cover them. “This song completely changes what it means to sound punk. You know, the scene’s become so fucking diluted these days. Nobody knows what being counter-culture means anymore.” Sighing in disapproval, Richie relaxed in his seat again.

At this, Eddie couldn’t help but snort.

“But you’re so nice to everyone. How is that counter-culture?” Eddie tilted his head, watching Richie curiously. He wasn’t sure if there was a joke being played, but he was almost certain none of the music they listened to was punk. When he thought of that genre, he thought of screaming and loud guitars.

“Ah ah ah,” Richie said, waving his finger. “Punk isn’t about being a dick to people. There’s enough of that in the world. You got your religious fanatics who like to exclude anyone different – for example, people who don’t dress in their Sunday best all seven days of the week, or more obviously, gay people. That shit is stupid. Anyone who uses punk as an excuse to be a dick, is just an asshole. Punk is for all the outcasts, all the losers. Punk is doing whatever makes you happy and not giving a fuck about anyone else.” As they pulled into the high school’s parking lot, Richie searched for a decent spot. There weren’t many people outside – the bell had rung, and they were either going to be late, or just in time.

“Can you just _decide_ that about punk?” Letting go of the seat belt, Eddie clutched his bag close.

“Sure can, Eds. For me, the real stuff is in like, indie, ska, and dance punk. You know why?” Richie turned off the van, twisting his torso so he faced Eddie. Shaking his head, Eddie looked out the window to avoid eye contact. “It’s because _they_ do whatever the fuck they want, and they try to make something that sounds happy. We’re living in a time and culture that feeds off misery and hopelessness. Fuck that!” Unable to resist, Eddie laughed.

“Fuck that,” he repeated, nodding to himself.

_What would make me punk? Could I be punk? I don’t think I have a tough bone in my body, but maybe that doesn’t matter. Being a loser is punk? That’s an interesting take. ~~Being gay~~  
Dad was pretty punk.  
Mom would HATE it if I wanted to be punk._

Richie leaned over, coming within inches of Eddie’s face. His breath caught in his throat; Eddie had never noticed how nice Richie’s eyes were behind the large, tortoiseshell glasses. His brain froze in time – he didn’t know what he was expecting.

Then Richie found the door handle, pushing it open for him.

“Fuck that, indeed,” he said, his breath tickling Eddie’s face. He smelled sweet, like butterscotch syrup. “I’ll see you around, Mr. Kaspbrak.”

* * *

Chemistry class was boring for a majority of the year. Mr. Sheldon rarely allowed his students to have hands-on experience; he was extremely pro-textbook. He yielded very little in the way of trusting teenagers, which Eddie could understand with a handful of his classmates.

However, Mr. Sheldon held Eddie in significantly higher contempt, for reasons he couldn’t fairly explain.

All his life, Eddie received positive comments from his teachers. He was always a pleasure to have in class; he was polite, he participated, and he never interrupted the flow of the day. He stayed in line and remained, mostly, anonymous.

But Mr. Sheldon couldn’t stand him, and he claimed it was because of the relationship with a much younger Frank Kaspbrak.

Today was one of the rare days; the tables were set up for an experiment, and the unused burners were on display. As Mr. Sheldon passed out the chemicals they were working with, he lingered beside Eddie and Bill. His neutral expression became a slight snarl, and his brow furrowed. Bill’s smile slowly faded, and Eddie tried his best to avoid looking up.

“No funny business, Mr. Kaspbrak,” he warned stiffly, before walking towards his desk. Eddie pursed his lips, choosing not to comment. Bill, meanwhile, set up their station and eyed the teacher.

“I have sick notes every other day for this class, and he doesn’t treat me half as shitty as he treats you,” he griped, shooting a glare to Mr. Sheldon when his back was turned. Eddie shrugged, focused on helping Bill with their experiment. He didn’t necessarily mind the unfair treatment, because when Bill _wasn’t_ skipping the class, he was defending Eddie.

_There’s this feeling I get sometimes with Bill, when he sticks up for me. It’s like this warmth that spreads from my stomach, to my chest, and then all over. Like to my cheeks and fingertips and toes. He’s always had this strong presence; he’s a natural born leader. I like when he looks out for me. He said once that he knows no one else will, so it’s **his** job._

Mr. Sheldon cleared his throat, commanding the attention of the class.

“Magnesium! Pretty boring element on it’s own – another gray rock, right? It bears a resemblance to five other elements. How average is that? Look around the room and imagine if you looked nearly identical to five of your classmates. So yes, magnesium. That’s the gray stick before you. Lackluster. Unamazing,” he said, his voice booming over everyone. “You would never guess the _fury_ of its’ true soul, until you put it under pressure. Goggles on!” Eddie already had his hanging around his neck, and obediently put them on.

Bill rolled his eyes, mumbling, “Nerd.” Eddie bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

“Burners on!” Bill reached out and flipped the switch, and a small blue flame sprouted. While he held the reflective glass to protect their eyes, Eddie used the tongs to hold the skinny, gray stick over the fire. As soon as it touched the heat, a bright light burst in front of them. Eddie stared in awe, averting his gaze when the brightness became too much. Instead, he stared at Bill.

_There’s literal chemistry between us._

“This is pretty cool. Too fucking bright to look at, but cool,” Bill mumbled. Reaching out, he turned down the burner. Eddie dropped the burning magnesium into their disposal tray, watching the light dim. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something – I just haven’t found the right time.” Licking his lips, he rubbed the back of his head.

Perking up, tilting his head, Eddie said, “What’s up?”

_What would literal chemistry between us remind Bill of? What would he have to say specifically to me?_

“Why wouldn’t you tell me that Greta’s your cousin?” he asked. Eddie’s smile dropped instantly. Initially, he was annoyed by the mention of Greta Keene. Then the question fully sunk in, and confusion took over. Bill noticed straight away, and cleared his throat. “I thought you might not’ve – I’m sorry, Eddie. I shouldn’t have asked-”

“Where did you get that idea?” Eddie demanded. His brow slowly furrowed, and his teeth were leaving an indent on the soft flesh of his cheek. He had no idea where the question could’ve come from, and he didn’t like it at all. Greta Keene being family was laughable; it made very little sense.

If he was related to the Keene family, he wouldn’t have been stuck in a lousy house on the poorer side of town. He would’ve lived on West Broadway, and gotten a car for his birthday, and been afforded all the scholarly opportunities he wanted. He definitely wouldn’t have been tormented the way he was his whole life for being a loser.

“Mom and Dad were talking about Greta when she dropped me off. They mentioned your mom and her mom… said something about like, _those sisters_ not speaking in decades,” Bill explained. From the concerned look on his face, Eddie could tell he wasn’t joking. It was rare that Bill ever pranked him. As a matter of fact, he didn’t think Bill liked the responsibility of pulling pranks.

Eddie shook his head, causing his goggles to slide down his face. His mother would’ve told him if she had any relatives in town, which she adamantly claimed she didn’t. He never had cousins to play with, or grandparents to receive extra gifts from. As far as he understood, both Frank and Sonia were only children, and their parents had long passed.

He didn’t even know his mother’s surname.

This troubled him – suddenly, he realized he knew very little about his own mother. He knew Bill’s mom used to be Sharon Dwyer, before marrying his father, Zack. He knew Bill’s full name was William Aiden Denbrough. But for the life of him, he didn’t know his mother’s surname.

_Was there a middle name on Dad’s headstone?_

His fingers curled into his fist, his palms pressing roughly on his thigh as he tried to think. Bill looked apologetic as he busied himself with cleaning their station. Eddie could hear a rustling from the tray beside him, and he shut his eyes in attempts to ignore it. All he needed was to remember a _name_. He was certain he’d seen or heard it before.

_Sonia Kaspbrak. Sonia Kaspbrak. What the **fuck** was her NAME-_

“Hell!” Mr. Sheldon shouted as the drawers to his desk flew open and crashed against the wall with a loud bang. A couple girls screamed and jumped. Papers flew into the air, scattering all over the floor. Eddie gulped, flattening his hands on the fabric of his jeans. He could feel the profuse amounts of sweat on them.

Thankfully, the bell rang before Mr. Sheldon could say anything. His accusatory glare was trained on Eddie, but Bill dragged him out of his seat as fast as he could.

“Come on, Eddie.”

Unfortunately though, they weren’t faster than the rest of their classmates.

The students were bunched at the door, eager to leave for the day. Bill glanced at Eddie, the apologies still in his eyes. Eddie sighed, his shoulders slumping when he heard Mr. Sheldon’s chair scrape against the linoleum floor.

“Mr. Kaspbrak,” he said, his tone calm. Eddie took another breath, slowly turning to face his teacher. Mr. Sheldon picked up the papers closest to him, neatly stacking them on his desk. “Your father was quite the prankster when he attended this school. Now I have no evidence against you just yet, but you’ll slip up one of these days. When you do, I have several options as far as punishment goes.” His voice was the most relaxed Eddie had ever heard it; Mr. Sheldon wouldn’t even look at him. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, waving him off dismissively.

Bill glared at him, his hand never leaving Eddie’s arm. Gently, he tugged on him, leading him outside once the doorway had cleared.

“Fucking weirdo,” Bill grumbled under his breath. Eddie’s face was expressionless as they made their way to Bill’s locker. He didn’t care about the empty threats from his chemistry teacher. His mind was on the strange happenings that _just wouldn’t stop_. No one else (except perhaps, Mr. Sheldon) noticed, but Eddie couldn’t ignore it. Things were definitely not right.

“Can we just… hang out at your place today? I have to go to the pharmacy first, but… I dunno. Let’s order a pizza and watch Harley Quinn. I started a seven day trial on DC Universe; I used an old gift card in case I forget to cancel,” Eddie said. He hoped the desperation in his voice wasn’t obvious.

Bill’s mouth twisted, and he suddenly looked guilty. Part of Eddie was relieved Bill didn’t notice how needy he was, but the other part knew Bill had bad news to relay.

At least, bad news for Eddie.

“I can’t. Greta invited me over, and her parents aren’t gonna be home,” Bill said, raising his eyebrows as if Eddie didn’t already understand the implications. For the second time that day, Eddie could feel his emotions escaping him. His heartbeat echoed in his eardrums, and he licked his lips to try and maintain some control.

_Control of what? Eddie, you’re losing it. Nobody can make desks fly open, or microwaves and tires explode with their mind. You sound crazy. Everyone would think you’re crazy if they knew. You think you have telekinetic powers or something? CRAZY. C-r-a-z-y._

He swore he felt a strange breeze on the back of his neck, and a striking fear ran through him. He didn’t want anything else to happen-

“Hey, Denbrough!”

Eddie’s attention was snapped in two, and the chilling feeling surrounding him abruptly disappeared.

Mike Hanlon approached them, his varsity jacket hanging off his shoulder.

“Mikey, what’s up?” Bill greeted, holding out his hand for Mike. They pulled each other close, their hands clasped together and their shoulders bumping. Eddie couldn’t understand the gesture, nor did he have strong enough shoulders to execute the move without hurting himself.

“You still coming this weekend?” he asked, his brilliant smile nearly as bright as the burning magnesium. Eddie frowned, glancing from Bill to Mike. His birthday was this weekend – Sunday, the lousiest day of the week, but still his birthday. Mike turned to Eddie, nudging his arm gently. “You too, Eddie! Come in costume; Halloween isn’t over until I say so.” Bill nodded, and Mike was called away by other members of his football team.

“It’ll be fun, Eddie. I promise. Mike’s parties are always the craziest; don’t you remember last year when all we wanted was an invite? Plus, we can still do something on your birthday – it’ll be like we celebrate twice,” Bill insisted, walking outside with him. Eddie didn’t say anything; he hated parties. He hated the idea of being packed into a house with hundreds of other kids. _Drunk_ kids.

As responsible as Mike was, Eddie knew what to expect.

He didn’t trust himself getting drunk; he could barely handle the cough medicine that required a prescription.

“I-”  
“Bill!”

Yet again, Bill’s attention was snatched from Eddie. He huffed, watching Greta prance up the steps and close the distance between them. She threw her arms around Bill’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Eddie’s stomach twisted in knots. He simultaneously felt sensations not unlike being punched in the gut, and strangled, all at once. Breathing sharply through his nose, he began walking without Bill.

Without so much as a “see you later.”

Bill didn’t call after him, and Eddie was too afraid to turn around and catch them making out.

He wasn’t _jealous_. Not of Bill, and certainly not of Greta.

He just couldn’t understand the big deal surrounding kissing. Coupling up seemed so stupid. He preferred when he and Bill could enjoy their own little world, with no interruptions. That’s all. It didn’t _mean_ anything.

_Does it mean something? Why does everything have to mean something? Why can’t I just be mad that Bill keeps blowing me off for stupid Greta Keene? She’s not even pretty; her forehead is covered in zits. It’s gross. She’s gross. Kissing is gross. I’m never gonna have a girlfriend. It’s just a waste of time._

Eddie reached the edge of campus before he heard the familiar, obnoxious horn and rattling muffler. Turning, he watched Richie slowly pull up beside him. Beneath the noises from the vehicle, and the crunch of gravel under the dirty tires, Eddie could hear his music.

“You want another ride, Kaspbrak?” he offered, holding out his hand.

Eddie’s mouth twisted, and he said, “I have to go to the pharmacy.” Richie didn’t seem fazed by the information, and he nodded his head towards the door.

“No problem.”

Looking towards where he left Bill, he was relieved to see he and Greta were no longer stuck in a lip-lock. Of course, this only meant they were advancing further to the privacy of her room – and if Bill wasn’t shy about kissing her on the front steps of their school, Eddie didn’t want to imagine what more he would get up to. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he straightened up and took Richie’s hand.

The touch lingered for a second too long, before a car behind Richie honked, and Eddie yanked his hand back. He wasn’t sure why he took it, and he forced the thought out of his head as he scurried around to climb in the van.

“What’s the name of this song?” Eddie asked after a few moments of silence. It was the same one from earlier, and he could already tell the chorus would be stuck in his head. Richie flashed a smile, pushing his phone over for Eddie to look.

“Being Bad Feels Pretty Good,” he answered. Checking the information on his Spotify, Eddie saved it on his own phone. Once he was done, he sank into the seat and closed his eyes. For a couple minutes, he enjoyed the song. It had hints of 80’s influence, which Eddie admired. Sonia would’ve found a reason to discredit this, but he didn’t care. _He_ liked it. “What’s on your mind, Eds?”

Grimacing at the nickname, Eddie peeked through one eye. Richie watched the road, but stole the occasional glance. Eddie didn’t think he had an answer, but words rushed to his lips before he could think to stop them.

“Halloween. It’s tomorrow – it’s on a Thursday, and I hate that. I hate when it’s not on a weekend, cause the parties either come too early or too late. I don’t get why this doesn’t bother anyone else,” he complained, crossing his arms over his chest. Richie’s expression was unreadable for a moment.

Then, his smile returned, somehow bigger than before.

“That’s a hella cute thing to nitpick at, Eds,” he commented, clearly holding back a laugh. He was playful about his teasing, but Eddie became offended nonetheless. “Sorry, sorry. Ignore me.” Turning to stare out of the window, Eddie wondered how bad it would hurt if he simply rolled out of a moving vehicle. It didn’t seem too bad in the movies. “Is this about Mike’s party? Are you going?” For a few seconds, he didn’t answer. He considered ignoring Richie for the remainder of the ride, but his resolve wasn’t strong enough.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his shoulders slumping. “Bill wants to go, but I don’t really… _do_ parties.” Richie clicked his tongue, nodding in what seemed to be agreement.

“Very alternative of you, man. That’s pretty cool,” he complimented. At first, Eddie was defensive. He tried to detect the sarcasm, but upon seeing Richie’s earnest expression, he realized there _was_ none. “I’m going cause Mike’s a good friend. He’s not into the whole… clique thing. Solid dude.” Richie stopped at the empty intersection, reaching over to open the glove compartment. Pulling out a tattered cigarette box, he shook one free.

_Mom was right about Richie doing drugs. It’s only pot, but she would freak out if he was abusing something lame like aspirin. Can you even abuse that?_

“You smoke?” Eddie asked, watching Richie light the joint.

“Yeah – oh, sorry, do you mind? I can hold off,” he said, suddenly concerned. Eddie shook his head, waving his hand. He expected Richie to start driving again, but the van didn’t move. Richie blew a puff of smoke out the window, then held out the joint to Eddie. “You want some?”

_I don’t think it would hurt to try. Weed never seemed as harmful as alcohol._

“Not right now, thanks. Mom would kill me,” he said. Richie considered this response, nodding when he decided it was probably closer to the truth than Eddie knew. He had very few interactions with Sonia, from what Eddie had seen, but they were definitely enough.

Driving through the back streets once again, Richie parked behind the pharmacy, safe from view. Eddie hopped out of the van, and Richie leaned back in his seat, blowing smoke rings. Sniffing his clothes, hoping Mr. Keene wouldn’t notice, Eddie rounded the corner and entered the store.

There was a wall of candy bars leading to the counter. Eddie typically didn’t venture any further, but he knew there were other products available. Bandages, feminine hygiene, headache medicine, muscle creams, and countless other options were neatly lined on the shelves. He remembered wandering through the aisles once while Sonia went behind the counter with Mr. Keene to discuss his medicine. He tried to reach out and touch one of the bottles, but Keene barked at him to keep his hands to himself.

Eddie didn’t have much else to associate Keene with, so he was never eager to interact with him.

“Hello, Edward. I assume Sonia’s working tonight?” Mr. Keene greeted him with a question. His mouth curved into a smile, which Eddie always saw as sinister. He didn’t smile because he was happy, but rather because he knew it made people uncomfortable, and he enjoyed that.

“Yeah. I’m just here to pick up the prescriptions,” he said, handing over the money. Keene snatched it quickly, as though he needed exactly ten dollars, and only Eddie’s bill would satisfy him. He shuffled behind one of the shelves, skimming for their small paper bag. Another question rose in his throat, and this time, he was able to give the words consideration before setting them free into the world. Bill’s question from earlier was going to bother him until he received concrete answers, and he knew he wouldn’t get them from his mother. “Do you know Sonia’s maiden name? I’m having an off day… I think I forgot it.”

He tried to sound as unsuspicious as possible, but Keene’s smile grew bigger (and creepier). Leaning back into view, he fixed his glasses to study Eddie. Chuckling, he began whistling a tune, unsettling Eddie worse than before. He took his time filling their order, slowly walking back. Eddie expected an answer, but instead, he rang up the medicine. Printing the receipt, he handed the thin paper and change back to him.

Only then did he tell Eddie what he wanted to know.

Eddie wasn’t sure what scared him more: the confirmation, or how Keene was all too eager to spoil such a bizarre secret.

“Bowie. Sonia Bowie,” he said. Mr. Keene turned his back on Eddie, whose eyes landed on the wedding photo of him and his wife, Lisa Bowie. “I suppose it’s time you lifted that little veil of ignorance you live under, Eddie.” In all his life, Mr. Keene had never once referred to him by a nickname. He had always been “Edward.” Swallowing thickly, Eddie took a step back. “Greta told me that you found out about the placebos. I was wondering when you would wise up. Anxiety, insomnia, allergies… all treated by the same little white pill?” Keene laughed, and Eddie whirled around, briskly walking towards the exit.

He only stopped when he remembered a peculiar detail.

His medication had always been blue.

_Okay. So Mom has a sister she never told me about. Did Dad know? Why would she keep this a secret? How long has Greta known? And what does Keene mean WHITE pills? They’re blue, they’ve always been blue. Why else would blue be my least favorite color? I associate it with MEDICINE. They’re blue; he should know that. Mom wouldn’t just give me a random pill. She wouldn’t. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the FUCK-_

The windows of the storefront shattered with a loud crack, and glass fell in every direction. Shards were landing at Eddie’s feet, and the two pedestrians outside were yelling in shock. No one was hurt as far as Eddie could see, but the glass was everywhere.

“What the hell?!” Keene shouted, coming out from behind the counter. He passed Eddie, staring at the gaping hole in his store. Gulping, Eddie inched towards the door, quietly making his exit before sprinting towards Richie’s van. Hurriedly pulling himself in, he fastened the broken seat belt.

“You good, Eds?” Richie asked, shifting the gears and pulling out of the alley.

“No- yeah, Keene gives me the creeps,” he lied, rubbing his face in his palms. Richie studied him for a moment, then flicked the remainder of his joint onto the road.

“I feel you on that. He’s a weird old perv,” he said. Silence almost settled in, but this time, Eddie reached out to turn up the volume. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, but Richie didn’t seem to notice. He tried his best to relax, unsure if he could take anymore surprises.

_Dear diary, what the fuck is happening to me? I’m breaking shit with my mind and I don’t know how to stop it. I’ve somehow convinced myself that I have weird powers. I don’t know which is worse. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!_

Upon reaching Richie’s house, and pulling into the garage, Eddie loosened his grip on the belt. His fingers were sore from being clamped for so long, and as he stepped out of the vehicle, his knees nearly gave out. Catching himself on the door, he took a few deep breaths. Straightening up, he met Richie outside on the driveway.

“Thanks. I- I’ll see you later,” Eddie said, aiming to disappear into his room for the rest of the day. Richie caught his wrist, scratching the back of his head when Eddie stopped.

“Hey, about Mike’s party,” he said, kicking the dirt at his feet. Letting Eddie’s wrist go, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “If you do end up going, maybe we could coordinate costumes or something. Parties are more fun when you have someone to go with.” He offered a smile, and Eddie’s legs regained strength.

He used to think teenagers in the movies were all exaggerated – with ridiculous problems that stacked one on top of the other.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

_Dear diary, I think I know why I hate the idea of Bill and Greta so much. I think Richie just asked me on a date and I think I got butterflies._

“Yeah… yeah, that sounds cool,” he answered.


	3. Chapter 3

_Richie’s been giving me a ride everyday since the incident at Keene’s._

Staring out the cracked window, Eddie wrinkled his nose at the smell as they passed the local dump. He could see mounds of garbage and junk, which he personally felt matched the rest of town. Glancing down at his palm, he quickly averted his gaze.

His daily dose of fake pills were there, still wet with his saliva. He hid them under his tongue before leaving, acting as though nothing was wrong. Sonia didn’t seem to suspect a thing.

_Writing about all this fucked up stuff is fine. I can keep a lid on this as long as I’m writing. Nobody has to know._

“Eds, personal question I guess, but… are you gonna sell those? They look like good stuff. Your mom’s a nurse, right? Did you get them from her?” Richie asked, each question more pressing than the last. His curiosity was innocent enough, but Eddie was ready to burst at the seams.

“They’re supposed to be placebo pills, but apparently my mom is swapping them out with something else. I’ve stopped taking them, and now I’m just trying to figure out what the side effects are,” Eddie blurted, unable to keep another word to himself.

_So much for secrecy._

Abruptly, Richie slammed on the breaks, launching Eddie forward. Fortunately, he caught himself on the dashboard without any scuffs. His forearms were sore from impact, but it wasn’t severe to begin with. Frowning, he shot a glare at Richie.

“I’m sorry, is your mom drugging you?!” he cried, twisting his torso to completely face Eddie. At once, Eddie’s face burned. He knew how it all sounded; he had questioned himself several times the night Keene revealed the truth. Everything had been confirmed when Sonia reminded him to take his pill, and suddenly they were blue instead of white.

_I was careful about taking the canisters out. I had to re-tape the paper bag just right so Mom wouldn’t realize I opened it. I’m just so fucking CONFUSED. What are these fucking pills?_

Frantically shaking his head, Eddie held up his hands in surrender and said, “No! No, it’s not like that. I- She-” His shoulders slumped and he sank into the seat. He didn’t know how to defend his mother, and God knew he’d been trying for years. Or at least the last two days. Running a hand through his hair, he continued, “I don’t know what’s going on anymore. Please don’t tell anyone; I’m trying to take care of this and figure it all out. I don’t need anymore curve balls.” His eyes must’ve been pleading enough, because Richie’s expression suddenly became one of pity.

Nodding, he sighed before driving again.

“Do you _need_ help though? This sounds… really fucking serious, Eddie,” Richie said – and Eddie knew he _had_ to be concerned if he wasn’t using the stupid “Eds” nickname. Rubbing his arms, Eddie nodded.

“I didn’t mean to freak you out. I might just be losing my mind – Keene’s the one who made me suspicious, and he might’ve just been like… being an asshole,” he explained. Rubbing his face in his hands, pressing his palms into his eyes, he groaned. “I really think I am going crazy. Ever since my dad died…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t want to keep using Frank’s death as the excuse, but usually, the topic made people steer away.

_Ugh. Manipulating people’s emotions. I’m turning into my mother. I’m not trying too – I promise. I really DO think life’s gone to hell since Dad died. I just can’t figure out how those dots connect. Jesus, maybe I really am just going crazy. Maybe Greta Keene and the fuck-head Bowers and Mr. Sheldon have been right from the jump. I’m just no good-_

“Even so, man… I think that’s pretty punk rock of you. Saying fuck you to your mom like that,” Richie said, offering a small, encouraging smile. Eddie froze, forgetting to breathe for a split second.

_I don’t think I’m doing anything punk rock. Richie must be crazy too._

“You’re messing with me,” Eddie grumbled, shaking his head.

“No, seriously. It’s messed up if she’s lying to you about meds. Who drugs their own kid? I’ve known you our whole lives; I’ve seen how she treats you. Can I be honest?” he asked, though he didn’t wait for an answer. Midway through Eddie’s first nod, he pressed on. “She might as well have you on a literal leash. It’s like she wants you to keep suckling her tit at seventeen – holy fuck, eighteen. Your birthday’s this weekend, right?” His eyes were bulging, and so were Eddie’s, but for a different reason.

_Richie’s known me since we were in preschool, but I didn’t think he’d pay this much attention. Or remember so much. I don’t even remember his birthday. I’m pretty sure it’s in March._

Eddie stared down at his hands before mumbling, “Yeah.”

Valid points were made, now that he thought about it. He was turning eighteen, and his mother still had a stranglehold on him. Of course, he couldn’t focus on any of _that_ when he had to rack his brains for memories of Richie. He knew at one point, when they were only five-years-old, they had been friends.

Richie, and his clumsily taped glasses and buck front teeth, stood between a cowering Eddie and a much taller Henry Bowers. Usually, Bill would take a punch for him, but he was absent. Richie held a sword made of markers, threatening to whack Henry’s “pea brain” out, and Henry punched a lens out of his glasses in return. One of his teeth went flying, and when Eddie saw the blood, something overcame him.

He hadn’t thought about this in years – in fact, this might’ve been the first time since the incident.

Eddie stood up to Henry for the first and only time in his life, jumping on his back and pulling on his tacky mullet.

Sonia was called, and Eddie sat outside the principal’s office while she screamed her head off. All the kids passing pointed and laughed, and he became known as the school’s biggest loser. Sonia forbade him from playing with Richie, since he was obviously the one who started the whole mess.

Eddie wanted to ask if Richie remembered, but instead, kept his mouth shut.

_Maybe I am a little punk._

“I don’t mean to offend, but yeah man… I support you. There’s this guy I watch on YouTube who threw his medication off a bridge when he realized he didn’t need it anymore. That’s probably not for everyone, but I mean, you know yourself best,” Richie said. Eddie wasn’t sure he agreed, but he nodded anyways. Seeming to notice the change in Eddie’s demeanor, he cleared his throat and prepared to change the subject. “Are you doing anything for your birthday?”

If his intentions were to make Eddie feel better, he was failing fast. Eddie’s mouth twisted as he thought about the weekend plans. Everyone was so excited for Mike Hanlon’s party, except Eddie. Every year, he and Bill would rent movies and load up on all the sugary snacks Sonia refused to let him have. They would stay up as long as they possibly could, and he looked forward to it more than anything else. Not once in all the years they’d been friends had they broken tradition – but it looked as though Bill was forgetting.

“Nothing except this lame party,” Eddie sighed, his shoulders slumping. For a moment, Richie was quiet. Glancing up, Eddie could see the school ahead of them. He wasn’t looking forward to another day of being blown off, but he didn’t want to dwell on it. If he did, he feared more of the _weird things_ would start happening again. As long as he kept his mind clear, he could last the day without a mishap.

But the curve balls just wouldn’t stop coming.

Richie cut the wheel to the left, veering away from their school. Eyes widening, Eddie gaped at him like a fish out of water. He jabbed his thumb behind him, looking into the rear view mirror to see the high school shrinking in the distance.

“Fuck school – it’s a Friday, no one cares,” Richie said, picking up speed as they merged onto the highway. Eddie frantically looked around, half expecting someone to point them out. Clearly, they were teenagers that were _supposed_ to be accounted for in a place of learning. However, nobody seemed to care. There weren’t many cars around, anyways.

Eddie and Bill always considered cutting classes, but there were a few problems. The major issue was how far out the high school was. With a vehicle, it wasn’t too bad – but what kid without a car would want to walk along the barren stretch of road? It was impossible to ditch without getting caught by someone. Richie’s van easily solved that problem, but there was still the matter of Sonia Kaspbrak.

“Dude, I can’t do this! The secretary calls home if you’re reported absent!” Eddie hissed. Taking out his phone, Richie turned onto the exit, finding a place to park momentarily. “What are you- Richie, are you listening to me? Please, this isn’t funny. I need to-” Reaching over, Richie placed a finger against Eddie’s lips.

“Shhh, Eds, relax.”

At this, Eddie’s face burned, and his nostrils flared.

“Relax?!” he nearly screamed. Richie snickered, pointing to his phone.

“I’m friends with Ben Hanscom. You know him?” Although he still wasn’t relaxed, Eddie at least was listening. “He’s a student aide during our second period. I’ll ask him to cover for us; when the time comes to call parents, he’ll volunteer and just… won’t call ours.” Richie handed the phone to show off the text messages, and Eddie scrolled up, seeing similar requests from over a week ago.

The phone vibrated in his palm, and Eddie saw the thumbs up emoji Ben sent back.

“This actually works?” Eddie questioned, sliding the phone across the ripped cushion.

“Every time. Now relax, dude. I promise I’m not trying to get you in trouble,” Richie assured him, reaching over to ruffle his hair. His mouth twisted into a pout, and Eddie huffed as he fixed the tousled mess. Folding his arms over his chest, he sank into his seat and stared straight ahead.

_Dear diary, be honest. Have I always been this high strung? When was the last time I did something because I wanted to?_

There _had_ to be something in Eddie’s life that was entirely his own, but he couldn’t come up with an answer. Even when Frank was alive, the activities he enjoyed were never solely for himself. He helped Frank fix the car, or they would watch movies that Sonia wouldn’t approve of if she were around. Other than that, he baked with his mom on the good days, and played with Bill during the times in between.

_This is embarrassing. I’m hardly a person. What do I **like**? What do I **want**?_

Until now, Eddie Kaspbrak had been content with tackling each day as they came. He was fine as long as he could have his dad and his best friend.

But now he felt as though he had neither, and he was stuck with his mother.

He was dangerously close to being exactly like her – dependent on everyone to enjoy life.

_That shit stops now. I’m Eddie fucking Kaspbrak, and I’m gonna do whatever I want. If Richie Tozier thinks I’m punk, then I can do that._

“Where are we going?” Eddie asked, perking up as he finally noticed the change in their surroundings. There were towering trees on either side of them, with no end in sight. A long stretch of highway was before them, and Eddie blinked as they passed a large green sign, missing what it said.

“Nowhere special. There’s this hamburger joint outside town; it’ll be open by the time we get there. They have these loaded chili cheese fries – you gotta try ‘em,” he replied. Eddie grimaced, opening his mouth to object. However, he bit down on his lip to stifle any protests.

If he wanted to change, there was no better time than here and now. It couldn’t hurt to play Richie’s games for a while.

At least... he hoped it wouldn’t.

“You eat, like, awful stuff,” he commented. He didn’t mean to offend, but there were no nicer ways he could think to voice his opinion. Rolling his eyes so hard, Eddie feared they might get stuck, Richie shook his head dismissively.

“Gee, Eds, I had no idea,” he said, using his bad Kermit voice again. Eddie couldn’t help but giggle – the voice, however lousy, would get him every time. “I’m here for a good time, not a long time.” Although he wasn’t pleased with the answer, and had countless health issues stacking up in his mind, Eddie pushed them aside. One meal wouldn’t be the end of the world – especially when Sonia wasn’t the most conservative when it came to healthy eating.

_Stop thinking about Mom. Just stop! She’s not here to watch your every move. You can do things without her having to be involved, Eddie._

“I didn’t bring any money,” he said suddenly, realizing all of his cash was safely stowed away in his room. Richie scoffed and flicked his hand down.

“Open up that glove compartment. I gotcha covered, man, don’t sweat it,” he insisted. Pointing to the small knob on the dashboard, Richie didn’t lower his hand until Eddie reached for it. Opening the compartment, his eyes widened. There was a thick stack of money, held together with a rubber band. Taking it out, Eddie ran his thumb over the bills.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to keep this much money in your car? It doesn’t even lock!” Eddie shouted, hurriedly replacing the money. There were a dozen questions and concerns rising in his throat, but all of them were trampled by a new question. He noticed a whole cookie wrapped in a decorative napkin, next to where the cash was sitting. “What’s- Richie, what is-” Pulling out the cookie, wary of any potential bugs crawling on it, he examined the food.

“Oh!” Richie became sheepish, though he was unable to fight his grin. “Bev Marsh sold it to me.” It took several seconds for the meaning to fully click in Eddie’s head. When he realized what he held, he squeaked and dropped it on the seat. “Careful! I paid twenty bucks for that!” Fortunately, Eddie hadn’t tried to pick it up. If he had, he would’ve lost control yet again.

“Twen- _American dollars_?!”

“Yes, Eds, drugs cost money,” Richie said, somewhat exasperated – though, Eddie could detect hints of laughter in his voice. Smoking marijuana was one thing, but something about a drugged pastry felt _more_ illegal to Eddie. He wasn’t even sure if weed was still illegal in Maine. “You wanna try it? We can hang out in Chamberlain County until it wears off. C’mon, it’s your birthday, you’re king for the day.” Eddie’s eyes bulged in his skull.

_Technically, tomorrow is my birthday._

Biting his lip, Eddie picked up the neatly wrapped cookie. It didn’t look any different from the ones he baked with Sonia, though it wasn’t as golden brown, and the chocolate chips weren’t prominent.

_I’ve spent my teenage years watching Family Feud and baking to 80s music. I’m okay with that._

But he couldn’t stop the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. He was curious, no denying that. Being high with solely Richie Tozier was different from getting drunk in a house full of strangers.

“Promise me you won’t laugh if I do anything stupid,” Eddie demanded, holding out his pinkie. Stealing a glance at him, Richie’s brow rose.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said, confusion in his tone. He spoke as though laughing at Eddie weren’t the social norm, and while it took him a minute, Eddie realized it _wasn’t_ for Richie. Holding out his pinkie, he allowed Eddie to hook them. “I promise.” Yet again, a fluttering sensation rose in Eddie’s stomach. Quickly, he distracted himself with breaking the cookie in half. “Bev said it’s a rookie cookie, so we won’t get _too_ high. Just relax when it hits you.” As Eddie passed his half over, he felt his phone vibrate.

Freezing, he nearly dropped the cookie out of sheer panic.

_Mom knows fuck she knows fuck fuck fuck-_

**[From: Bill]**

**8:47** _Eddie where are you?_

Staring at the message, Eddie considered what his reply would be. He didn’t know what to say that would sound believable, because certainly Bill wouldn’t think Eddie would do something this wild. Now that he thought about it, the situation should’ve been giving him an asthma attack. He was about to do drugs with a stranger that he’d only started hanging out with a few days ago. He was about to do all this _miles from home_. His heartbeat echoed in his ears; Eddie thought he might open the door and roll out of the vehicle. His mother could’ve forgiven a broken arm as long as he was getting out of _this_ particular situation. The blame would’ve been on awful, stinky Richie Tozier.

Tucking the phone back in his pocket, Eddie bit into the cookie.

It was much softer than he expected.

_Richie isn’t a stranger; I think he’s my friend. I like him. And Chamberlain isn’t that far; Mom goes to pick up sweets from the bakery there almost every weekend._

The next ten minutes were mostly silent, save for Richie’s music. Eddie distracted himself with the scenery, which wasn’t much more than drastically tall trees. The drive from Derry to Chamberlain County wasn’t far; a little over thirty-five minutes if you drove slow, which Richie didn’t. People in cities like New York drove thirty minutes just to get to work.

_I wanna go to New York. Or maybe Chicago. I wanna go somewhere with snow. Somewhere bigger than what I’m used to. There’s a whole world out there._

He wondered if that was what Sonia feared so much – him realizing how big the world could be, if he only took a few steps into it. There was more to life than simply living with her and adhering to the lifestyle she set up for them. Though, he couldn’t blame her for fearing loneliness. Since Frank died, regardless of whether or not Bill was around to distract him, he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling.

_Richie’s been much better about distracting me, but then again, I don’t think I’m lonely when he’s around. It’s hard to feel anything but happy when he’s talking to me. Maybe that’s his superpower._

Pulling into the hamburger joint, appropriately named “Burger Shack,” Eddie grimaced. The building was covered in corrugated metal sheets; it appeared that one strong gust of wind would rip them off and strip the establishment bare. The door was ill-fitting in the frame, and looked like no more than a screen with a small latch. An air conditioning unit hung out of one side, and the drive-thru window was on the other.

Through the screen door, Eddie could see a narrow space where people could walk in to order. There were two tables outside with mismatched chairs and no set color scheme. The only saving grace was the letter “A” taped in the broken, cloudy window.

He wondered if the mild panic rising in his chest was effects from the cookie, but the more he thought about it, the less he felt. Richie ordered for them, handing money to the woman in the window. A cigarette was hanging from her lips, which Eddie noticed had smeared lipstick.

He wanted to comment about the state of the “restaurant,” a term he was using quite loosely, but what came out instead was: “I think Bev ripped you off with these cookies. I don’t feel anything.” Switching the gears to park, Richie chuckled and tapped the wheel to the beat of the music.

“Why Edward, what kind of fool do you take me for!” he exclaimed, using a new voice – one that Eddie could only describe as southern belle. Snickering, he playfully pushed Eddie’s shoulder. “It takes a while to kick in. You’ll know when you feel it.”

_Will I?! I’ve never been high before. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. Maybe he won’t notice if I google it._

Sifting through his phone, he hastily shoved it in his pocket when Richie turned toward him with the food. A strong wave of chili and fried potatoes filled the van, shooting up Eddie’s nostrils. It wasn’t a bad smell by any means, but his face twisted anyways. Whenever he ate, he kept the plate light. He liked mashed potatoes and chicken. Cereal. Bread. He couldn’t stand most vegetables, unless pickles counted. They were once cucumbers.

“This is… very unhealthy looking,” he mumbled, unwrapping one of the forks included.

“That’s the point. Hang on though, wait until we get to the park,” Richie instructed, lowering Eddie’s hand. Confused, Eddie tilted his head and stared at him questioningly. “Just trust me. The timing will all work out.” Although he wasn’t sure what that meant, and he was beginning to think Richie was just screwing with him, Eddie caved and listened.

“Can I pick a song?” he asked, breaking the silence. Richie peeked over, studying Eddie before nodding. Taking Richie’s phone, he searched for other playlists. Much to his surprise, there was only the singular one made up of Richie’s two favorite bands. His mouth twisting into a pout, he tried looking through the likes. Surely there had to be something different there. Perhaps he was one of those people who liked a million songs and never organized them. “Oh.”

“What?” Richie’s brow rose as he glanced over again.

“You only have two liked songs. I know this one- or well, I guess it’s a cover,” Eddie muttered. He clicked the unfamiliar title, surprised at the calm, bluesy tune.

_(Think I’m starting to change, with the weeks and the days)_

A soft, feminine voice crooned from the speakers. In Eddie’s opinion, this was a pretty welcome change. He didn’t necessarily hate Richie’s choices in music, but he was craving variety. Cranking down the window, he leaned his head closer to it, closing his eyes as the wind hit his face.

_(It’s pretty obvious that I kinda like it, think I kinda like it)_

The corners of his mouth turned up, and Eddie thought of how his counselor would say it took more muscle to frown than to smile. He thought it was bullshit, because he tested himself in the bathroom, and it took effort either way. His resting indifference was the easiest.

But this particular smile was weightless.

Holding his hand out to ride the wind, he chuckled.

_(Think I kinda like it, cause I get tired of the same shit)_

Richie pressed a little harder on the gas pedal; Eddie could hear the engine revving, and feel them lurching with a new speed. He didn’t open his eyes, not because he was afraid to see them speeding down the highway, but because it felt better this way. The music became louder, but he didn’t think Richie cranked up the volume. He was simply focusing on one sound.

_(So now I’ve changed, I’ve been feeling comfy. Now I’ve changed, I’ve been feeling lonely)_

When they stopped, Eddie didn’t immediately notice. Richie opened his door to allow more fresh air in; the wind was blowing steadily, keeping them cool. There was no one else at the park, which wasn’t much of one to begin with. There was a dirt trail circling the playground, but the equipment was old and filthy. It looked as though no one had used the park in years. Leaves were cluttered in piles under the gazebo, where a rusted picnic table sat. There was an old trampoline close to where they parked, but Eddie suspected someone left it there for convenience over dismantling and throwing it in the dump.

“Have you ever been on one of these? I have one in my backyard, but I haven’t used it in years,” Richie said, turning up his stereo as loud as it would go. Taking Eddie’s hand, he pulled him towards the trampoline, climbing onto it. There were no holes in the mat; from what he could tell, it was rather sturdy. Joining Richie, he didn’t release his hand as they began jumping.

“Mom thought they were dangerous,” Eddie admitted. There were times when he was younger, perhaps seven or so, where he would watch longingly as Richie shrieked with laughter and played with his parents. “I used to watch you though. I was living vicariously, I guess.” They were bouncing higher than Eddie anticipated, gaining momentum with each leap. Clutching Richie’s forearms, he started to laugh.

Richie stared at him, mildly amused, and began laughing as well.

The air rushing around them felt as though it could carry Eddie away if it wanted. He only let Richie go to hold out his arms, imagining the rush of flying through the sky. When he opened his eyes, all he could see were the white clouds and blue abyss. Stretching his arm up, he thought he might be able to touch it.

_Being high is weird. I feel more like myself than I ever have in my life._

Eddie was still laughing as they jumped off the trampoline, and meandered across the empty street to the 7/11. He struggled to stifle his laughter as Richie made faces at all the ridiculously named products. Oreos never seemed weird until now. Neither did Moon Pies. He could feel his cheeks burning as he bit his lip to keep from shrieking with giggles; Air Heads were the dumbest name for a candy. How could no one else tell?

The cashier rolled his eyes and pointed to the door as they finally approached the counter with slurpees.

“Just take ‘em,” he said, defeat clear in his voice. Richie held up the peace sign, nodding to him as they stumbled out.

“What flavor did you get?” he asked, motioning to Eddie’s cup. Sticking out his tongue, certain it had changed color, he swirled the drink in his hand.

“Blue raspberry. The best of all flavors,” he said confidently. Richie’s face scrunched and he stuck out his tongue right back.

“You’re talking mad shit for a flavor that isn’t strawberry,” he said, bumping his cup against Eddie’s. They staggered back to the van, and Eddie burst into giggles when he saw the doors were still open, and the music was still blaring. He wasn’t surprised – nobody was around, and even if there were people, nobody would’ve wanted Richie’s beat up vehicle. “Oh fuck, this one is my favorite.” Eddie listened, but the tune wasn’t familiar.

“I thought the other one was your fav- whoa!” Nearly dropping his slurpee, Eddie clutched it tighter as Richie spun him around. The tune was upbeat, and Eddie didn’t think twice as he danced to the rhythm. Richie twirled him again, clumsily dipping him before tugging him back up.

_(Am I stupid or just brave? They’re basically the same)_

Grinning from ear to ear, Eddie took a sip from his cup the same time Richie did. They stuck their tongues out, showing off the different, vibrant colors.

_I like hanging out with Richie. I’m doing more than I ever did with Bill; I’m actually having fun. This is the me that could’ve existed all along, and fuck… it feels good._

Spilling his slurpee, Richie pouted, but Eddie was quick to hold his up and offer to share. Richie took a drink, licking his lips as he stared down at Eddie. Their dancing slowly stopped, though Eddie didn’t quit swaying to the beat.

_(Do I need to hide anymore?)_

Leaning in, Richie kissed Eddie, his chapped lips scratching against Eddie’s smooth skin. He missed by about a centimeter, but managed to catch his upper lip. When he broke away, his expression became panicked and apologetic. Eddie’s eyes were wide; he was stunned to say the least.

“Sorry- fuck, I didn’t mean- fuck, Eds-” Richie stammered, stepping away.

For Eddie, the kiss was more of a confirmation. He suspected his feelings for a while, but it was so much easier to stifle them. Perhaps that was why he hardly felt like a person – such a large portion of himself was buried under the surface. With the death of his dad, the feelings attacked with a vicious resurgence.

And maybe he needed to be attacked.

He needed the truth ripped out of him, and gently sowed back into the fabric of his skin.

He liked the kiss, and he hated Bill being with Greta because he was in love with him.

But if he wanted to pass up a good person for a good time, then screw him.

Eddie grabbed Richie’s face and kissed him forcefully, gradually moving his tongue to touch Richie’s. He had no idea what he was doing, but since Richie wasn’t stopping him, he supposed he couldn’t have been performing _that_ badly.

* * *

Forgoing his bike to walk to Bill’s house, Eddie swore there were bright neon signs all directed at him. Sonia didn’t notice a thing, but he was wooden and stoic in all of his movements. He couldn’t have been more suspicious unless he painted the word across his forehead.

_I think I lost my virginity yesterday. It was only hand stuff but… I don’t really know what counts. I feel like it should, so I’m gonna say I did._

Despite feeling like a magnifying glass hovered over him, exposing him to the world, Eddie held his head high as he disappeared from his mother’s view. Walking with a skip in his step, he almost stopped to see if Richie wanted to join him. However, he didn’t want to come off as clingy.

Sauntering along the streets, he whistled as he made his way to Witcham. Lost in thought, he didn’t notice Greta’s convertible barreling towards him until she jammed her hand on the horn and held it there. Jumping, startled, Eddie gripped the fence beside him to keep from falling. Her brow was furrowed as she sped past, angrily turning the corner without much pause.

Blinking, Eddie stared after her for several seconds before cautiously approaching Bill’s house. He sat on his tire swing, spinning slowly as he dragged his foot on the ground. Pushing the fence open, Eddie slipped into the yard as quietly as he could. Bill lifted his head, smiling when he spotted him.

“Hey. I heard Greta all the way from here. What’d you do to piss her off?” Bill teased, as if he didn’t know that Eddie’s mere existence infuriated her. He thought about his newly acquired information regarding their mothers, and he wondered if she was aware he knew. That didn’t quite matter at the moment, though. Eddie was far too curious about what was going on with Bill.

“No more than usual,” he answered, pushing the tire. Backing up, he leaned against the fence, his arms crossed. “Why’d she peel off like that? Everything okay?” Bill shrugged, and his indifference excited Eddie.

“I dumped her – I guess it was tacky for me to do it after we hooked up, but I wasn’t looking for a full time girlfriend,” he confessed. Breathing in, Eddie could practically feel his heart soaring into the overcast sky. His arms started to tingle, with the sensation spreading to his stomach and then down to his knees. Bill flashed him a grin, and Eddie thought he would give under his own weight.

“You’re serious? Bill, you confuse me,” he said, chuckling as he shifted his stance.

“I confuse myself too,” he sighed, blowing out a gust of air. Dragging his toes to make an X shape in the dirt, he stared up at Eddie through his lashes. “She was purely experimental. Now it’s over and… I have what I need.” Unsure of what Bill was getting at, Eddie aimed to ask. Despite his relief at the fact that they were no longer an item, he knew there was more to unearth about the situation. However, Bill was faster than him, and changed the subject with ease. “I’m sorry I’ve been blowing you off lately. Why don’t we go to this party together and just hang out like we always do? I promise we don’t have to drink or anything.” Standing up, Bill dusted the dirt from his shoes.

Eddie’s elation was too obvious to hide.

“Yeah, that sounds great!” he said, following Bill into his house.

“Happy birthday, by the way. I asked Mom to bring back some cupcakes so we could celebrate a little before we go.” Bill took the stairs to his room two at a time, and Eddie gleefully copied. He had wanted this since the school year started; he could already feel things returning to normal.

Without prompting, Bill grabbed a fresh-looking stack of comics from his desk, passing one to Eddie. They sat cross legged on his bed, and Eddie eased into the familiar surrounding. His betta fish was circling one of the ornaments in the tank, the vibrant blue scales glistening in the light. One of his neighbors was mowing the lawn, which was usual for a Saturday afternoon.

“Guess what,” Eddie blurted, eager to share his transformation with Bill. Three days felt like three months; there was a lot they missed out on while they weren’t hanging out.

“Hm?” Bill didn’t look up from his issue of X-Men, his eyes glued to a fight scene.

“I got high with Richie Tozier yesterday,” he said, omitting the part where they made out in his van. Part of him wanted to brag – the voice was so strong and clear in his head last night. He wanted to boast about how much better it probably was than anything Greta could’ve provided, because Richie wasn’t a tease.

Bill’s jaw dropped, as did the comic. It fluttered to the floor, hitting the carpet noiselessly.

“Eddie Kaspbrak got _high_?!” he exclaimed, leaping out of his bed. Nodding, Eddie joined him, swiping the comic from the floor before straightening up.

“Yep! It was fun; we were in Chamberlain and we got slurpees-”

“You cut school yesterday to get high and go out of town?!” Clearly impressed, Bill nodded approvingly. Eddie beamed at the positive reinforcement, and reached into his pocket.

“I have money for another edible. Bev sells these pot cookies so we don’t have to smell like weed. Mom has no idea,” he explained. Bill stared at him in awe, proudly punching his shoulder.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come out of that shell, Eddie. I was scared I was gonna lose you to Sonia. She’s really been sinking those press-on nails into you,” he said, sadly shaking his head. Eddie frowned, waiting for him to elaborate. “You just haven’t been yourself since your dad died. I know I was the same way when… you know, my brother-” Cutting himself off, Bill cleared his throat.

_Bill’s the only one who knows how to talk to me since Dad died, and that’s mostly because he can relate. His brother, Georgie, died when we were in middle school. The poor kid had cancer. Nobody knows how to act when a kid has an illness like that. Bill had to navigate all the condolences before he even died, and it only got worse afterward._

“I didn’t know I was being so obvious. I’m sorry-”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s just… what happens,” Bill said, holding out his arms to wrap Eddie in a hug. Surprised by the action, Eddie didn’t move. Breathing in Bill’s deodorant, he resisted the urge to giggle. His arms were strong, and pressed against his chest, Eddie savored the warmth. He listened to the beating of his heart, counting the seconds in time with each thump. “Come on, I got us costumes the other day. I figured I’d surprise you before we went to Mike’s.”

Holding Eddie’s hand in his, Bill led him towards the closet. Eddie stared at their entwined fingers, praying his palms wouldn’t sweat. He could only be so sad when Bill let him go, because he was taking out their matching skeleton costumes. They were simple, and exactly up Eddie’s alley.

Taking his, he grinned and said, “It’s perfect, Bill. If we get ready now, we can find Beverly before we head out to the farm.” Eager to start the night, Bill nodded and ripped the tag from his costume. He tugged his shirt over his head, and Eddie quickly averted his gaze, moving to the opposite side of the room to change. His hand ghosted over the same spot Richie felt up yesterday, and he froze.

Both at the sensation, and his phone vibrating.

**[From: Richie]**

**5:56** _Did you still wanna go to Mike’s together?_

Guilt suddenly overwhelmed Eddie. Biting his lip, he glanced at Bill. He could’ve easily invited Richie to join them, but something about overlapping his relationships with them didn’t sit right in his stomach.

_Richie’s not… my boyfriend. Is he? We hooked up once, but we didn’t establish anything. How does it work- fuck, am I leading him on? I… like him._

**[To: Richie]**

**5:57** _Bill broke up with his girlfriend, needs emo. support_

Tossing his phone on the bed, Eddie hurriedly changed. He considered leaving it behind, but knew better than to tempt fate twice in a week. If Sonia called him, he didn’t want to be caught without it. She would have the cops out searching for him, and the whole school would call him a nark if he was at fault for busting the party.

Fortunately, there were no follow up messages from Richie.

By the time they rode their bikes out to Beverly’s apartment, picking up another cookie, Eddie had all but forgotten the doubts in his head. He was relieved the wind was blowing cool air to keep them chilled, because biking across town easily worked up a sweat.

The party was in full swing when they reached the farm. Across the pond, lights were shimmering, reflected from the giant house. Balloons were floating away from it, and Eddie saw the last one tied to the mailbox. Leaving their bikes by the barn, they stared at the crowd of people. Kids swarmed on the wrap-around porch, and through the windows, Eddie could see them dancing inside.

Bill led him through the foyer, waving to people he knew, but Eddie didn’t. However, as promised, he didn’t leave Eddie’s side. Effects from the cookie began to kick in, and he moved to the music as they weaved through the party. Bill clumsily tossed chips into his mouth, which Eddie was majorly unsuccessful in catching. For a few minutes, they played a game of beer pong, and Eddie was shocked at how well he did. Ben Hanscom had to forfeit before drinking too much.

“Hey, Eds!” Hearing his name being called, and knowing exactly who called him, Eddie whirled around. While he and Bill were dancing in the living room, Richie stood at the edge of the kitchen, waving. He was in a black leather jacket, and a matching black body suit. He wore a curly black wig that cascaded down his back, and there was a sheriff sticker on the front of his shoulder.

Erupting into uncontrollable giggles, Eddie needed to sit down before he became too lightheaded.

“What are you supposed to be, Rich?” he asked, looking him over. His thighs were incredibly white; he couldn’t believe he never noticed yesterday.

“Cher. A Cher-iff, technically,” he explained. Bill snorted, both he and Eddie unable to control themselves. Looking between them, Richie placed his hands on his hips. “I thought Bev was lying when she said you bought from her, but I guess I was wrong. You two are baked like cakes, huh?” At this, Eddie wheezed, another fit of giggles overcoming him.

Bill, however, stopped, distracted by the sight of Mike.

“Hey, I’ll be right back. Rich, you can keep Eddie company, right?” he said, disappearing before Eddie got a hold of himself. It hardly mattered though.

Another song came on, and Eddie leapt to his feet, eagerly grabbing Richie’s hands to dance. Mike was clearly in charge of the playlist, because the songs were all familiar to Eddie. From Jessie’s Girl to Friday I’m In Love, he danced until he was out of breath. Richie didn’t show any signs of complaining – he smiled from ear to ear the whole time, even as Eddie embarrassed himself by singing along to the music.

“It’s Friday, I’m in love,” they sang together, falling on the couch as they lost balance. Eddie landed on Richie’s lap, their faces only inches apart. Their breaths mixed, the heat warming their already flushed faces. Remembering where he was and who he came with, Eddie cleared his throat and moved off of him. Smoothing out his costume, he stood up and looked around.

“How long have we been dancing?” he questioned, noticing how dark it had become outside. Everyone was still having plenty of fun, and the amount of people at the party hadn’t changed, so he was positive it wasn’t too late. Richie shrugged and looked around, wondering what Eddie was searching for.

“About five songs so… I dunno, twenty minutes. Maybe twenty-five.”

“I gotta- I should- Bill!” Eddie called out, catching sight of him going into one of the rooms. He gave Richie one last look, though he wasn’t sure what he conveyed with the expression.

If he had taken one last glance, he would’ve seen Richie staring longingly after him as he vanished with Bill.

With the door closing behind him, the music and chatter immediately muted. He could faintly hear Billy Idol’s Rebel Yell, but he paid no attention. His focus was on Bill, who sat in the center of a king sized bed, hugging his knees to his chest. Eddie didn’t know much about coming down from a high, but he suspected Bill might’ve been struggling through it.

_I can’t believe I handle drugs better than Bill. Of course, Ma’s been drugging me my whole life._

“Bill? You okay?” he asked tentatively, cautiously joining him on the bed. For a moment, Bill didn’t answer. He hardly moved. Eddie almost asked again, worried that Bill was stuck in his own head.

“Eddie?” His voice was soft and low. Fearful. Taking Bill’s hand, Eddie squeezed it comfortingly. “Can I tell you something? You have to promise it won’t change anything- I just- I can’t keep this to myself. If it does change things, we have to pretend I didn’t say anything. Can you promise me that?” His eyes were desperate. Pleading. Eddie’s heartbeat picked up. He could feel the pulse throughout his body.

_I recognize this. I feel the same way. Oh God, he’s gonna say it. He’s finally gonna tell me he loves me too._

Unable to stop himself, Eddie leaned in and pressed his lips against Bill’s. He expected the same fireworks he felt with Richie. More, even. He expected to feel himself levitating as all the weight of his struggles left him, because what could be so bad as long as he had Bill?

But Bill wasn’t kissing him back, and he felt nothing.

Panicked, Eddie slowly backed off, coming face to face with his best friend. The confusion and alarm in his eyes made Eddie’s stomach sour.

“Oh God, I-”

“No, Eddie, it’s okay, I-”

“Bill-” Eddie covered his mouth, suddenly feeling as though he might throw up. Bill grabbed his wrist as rapidly as he could, keeping him on the bed.

“I knew you’d be okay with me being bi. That’s what the whole thing with Greta was about. I wasn’t sure if I… Well, I mean, I’m attracted to her too, but…” His voice trailed off as he looked away. “Eddie, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. You’re like a brother to me-”

All the noise in all the world abruptly muted. Eddie felt a scream rising in his chest.

_A brother. A brother?! A BROTHER?!_

Bill didn’t seem to understand that Eddie needed complete silence to let those words sink in. He pressed on, the new information echoing in the empty room.

“Bill-”  
“I was gonna tell you that I’m trying to get with Mike. I wanna ask him out, but the edible kinda has me freaked. I almost forgot how to go up the stairs.”

_Mike! He wants to be with Mike now! It’s never you, Eddie! It was never GOING to be you!_

His stomach began to pain him, and he launched himself from the bed. Holding up his hands, motioning for Bill to stay put, he backed away until he hit the door.

“I didn’t kiss you, did I? Dude, I’m- I think I’m too high. You should ask Mike out though, that sounds like a cool idea. He’s cool; I had English with him… I gotta pee,” Eddie rushed through the statement, each word spilling out like vomit. Whirling around, he hit his face against the door as he tried to escape.

“Eddie, wait-”

“Pee!” he shouted over his shoulder, finally freeing himself from the bedroom. He jumped down the stairs, his legs wobbling as he gripped the railing to straighten himself. People were staring at him as he ran through the house, scurrying outside. He sprinted to his bike, moving faster than he ever had in his life.

The image of Bill’s surprised face wouldn’t leave his mind. Rejection was in his eyes and Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about it. His hands were shaking, and he trembled on his bike as he made his way down the dirt road. He cut through a surrounding thicket, not seeing the headlights of a moving vehicle on the other side. Whomever it was, they clipped the back of his bike, sending him tumbling.

Landing on his feet, he continued to move, abandoning the bicycle.

_He likes Mike. He would never like you, but now he knows you’re a weirdo and you’ve liked him from the jump. You’re so fucking WEIRD, Eddie. Why do you have to be so WEIRD? Dad would know what to do if he were here, but he’s not. He’s dead and you’re all alone and there’s no one you can tell._

Eddie stopped in the middle of the wooded area, the party far behind him.

His hands balled into fists, and the scream that had been rising in his throat for months finally lurched into his throat.

“ _ **FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!**_ ”

His roar was magnified by the thunder overhead as storm clouds rolled in. Rain began pouring, but getting soaked was the least of his worries.

As he screamed, the five trees in front of him were ripped loose from the ground, blowing backwards onto the land around them. A boulder at his side cracked with an ear-splitting shriek, and pebbles showered him as well as the rain. Eddie panted, his pulse going faster than he wanted to know. His heart was likely to explode.

Everything stopped cold, however, when he heard a twig snap behind him.

“Eddie?”

And now, finally, his lunch came up, landing all over his shoes.


	4. Chapter 4

There were several things Eddie could’ve focused on.

He was quite positive one of the broken shards of rock sliced his cheek – it hadn’t stopped stinging, and he couldn’t tell if the wetness was from rain or blood.

Then there was the matter of his filthy shoes, with chunks of partially digested food among the pale splatter.

The most important detail that needed his attention, though, was the fact that Richie Tozier was standing a mere five feet from him. His eyes were wide behind his thick glasses; as he took in the site of the destroyed trees and burst boulder, he gaped like a fish out of water.

“Eddie-”

“No!” The word came out with force from deep in his chest. His lips ripped apart after being pursed for such an intense few seconds, and he stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Richie. Jabbing his finger in Richie’s chest, he struggled to find anything else to say. “You- I-”

Grabbing his wrist, Richie gently moved it down. Eddie’s eyes followed the movement, quickly darting back up to glare.

“Eddie, I just watched you knock over trees – fucking, thirty foot tall trees – and blow up a rock, with… what? Your mind? Voice? Can you explain what I just saw?” Richie asked, shockingly calm. In a comic book world, Eddie would’ve been the rational one, attempting to calm Richie down and convince him that what he saw was real. Instead, Richie was approaching Eddie with caution.

Eddie was the one with superpowers, and he still needed convincing.

Shaking his head and backing away, he held up his hands in surrender.

“You’re crazy, Richie Tozier. I- I have to go. Don’t follow me, okay? N-no one’s gonna believe you. You’re just some pot head slacker,” Eddie said, stumbling as he inched away. Richie’s expression fell, hurt clear in his eyes. Eddie bit the inside of his cheek, holding back an apology. He didn’t want to attack Richie – there was no point, and furthermore, it wasn’t fair. He hadn’t been anything but nice to Eddie. He didn’t deserve this.

But he was in the worst fucking place at the worst fucking time.

“Eddie-!”

Ignoring Richie’s calls, Eddie whirled around and ran through the woods, eventually escaping on the other side. He folded his arms over his chest, quite literally holding himself together as he followed the empty road home. When he approached the house, he breathed a sigh of relief – Sonia’s car was gone. She took extra shifts lately, which meant Eddie had the place to himself most nights. She couldn’t fathom her son leaving the house after 7:30 PM, mostly because he never wanted to.

Eddie? At a high school party? Never.

_I can’t keep brushing off the weird shit happening. It’s me. It’s always ME. I’ve always been a freak, but now there’s concrete proof that something’s wrong. What am I supposed to DO? Tell a doctor?_

His hands trembled as he unlocked the door. Warmth immediately hit his face as he walked in, and he was careful to lock up behind him. He didn’t feel safe outside, but he damn sure would when in his own house. Rubbing his arms to heat up faster, he hurried up the stairs and to his bathroom. Since Sonia wasn’t home, he could relax in the shower as long as he wanted – which was exactly what he did. The steam fogged the mirrors, but cleared his head. He was finally able to _think_ , which he desperately needed to get his thoughts in order.

Richie knew his secret.

But… surely, no one would believe him. There were plenty of reasonable explanations for what happened in the woods. Eddie was a good enough liar; he could pretend he had no idea what Richie was on about.

Guilt began to creep in as quickly as the thoughts ran through his head; he didn’t want to sell Richie out, and he wasn’t even confident that Richie would tell anyone who’d listen. He wasn’t a gossip. His intent was never to really _hurt_ Eddie.

Truthfully, he wanted to trust Richie. He did.

Unfortunately, the panic outweighed everything else.

Stepping out of the shower, he dried off and dressed in an ill-fitting t-shirt which used to belong to his father. If he breathed in deep enough, he could still smell him in the fabric. Maybe that was a strange thing to do, but Eddie liked to pretend he could hug Frank before bed. He hadn’t been sleeping right without those casual nightly routines that he’d taken so grossly for granted.

_I keep hoping that I’ll wake up and Dad will be alive. I’m losing my fucking mind._

He would’ve loved to cry, but sleep came too quickly, snatching him up before he could think of much else.

His dreams came even faster, ensnaring him in a strange nightmare – different from the ones he’d had in previous nights.

_Eddie stared, turning his head left and right as he took in the surroundings. He knew where he was. He hadn’t set foot in this room for months, but he recognized it, clear as day._

_The basement._

_Taking a cautious step forward, he searched the room again. He thought, maybe… just MAYBE, he would be able to catch a glimpse of his father. Frank would work for hours underneath the house. On what, Eddie didn’t know. He supposed it was strange he knew so little about his parents, but he couldn’t accept so much blame. What kid wanted to be their parents’ keeper?_

“ _Frank?”_

_The voice called out the name he was thinking of, but it wasn’t his._

_The voice belonged to Sonia._

_Turning, he came face to face with his mother. Except… she was younger. Thinner, save for the very pregnant belly._

“ _Yes, my dear?” Frank’s voice sounded close. Eddie tried to look for the source, but his head wouldn’t turn._

“ _This house is so… old,” Sonia said, her tone strange. Eddie wouldn’t have guessed that the woman before him was his mother if they had just met on the street. Somehow, in this dream, he understood – he even knew he was dreaming, but he wasn’t waking up. He was no longer in control. “Frankie… I turned my back on family for this.” She was whining. She reminded him of Greta, and now that he looked carefully, he could see some resemblance between her and Lisa Bowie._

“ _I know what you’re used to Sonny, but this is smarter. I can own this house, and you’ll never have to worry about anything,” Frank said. Again, he sounded impossibly close, but Eddie couldn’t move. He tried to remember what Frank’s job was, but for the majority of his life, Eddie assumed he was a stay-at-home dad. “I’m an inventor, which means that I’m innovative. We might not look like much from the outside, but we’ll be happier, and more comfortable than you can imagine.” Eddie’s arm lifted, though he wasn’t the one willing it to happen._

_His hand reached out to rest on Sonia’s stomach, the knuckles more hairy and the skin more calloused. Eddie turned his head and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the broken TV resting on the floor._

_He wasn’t himself._

_He was Frank._

Jerking awake to the obnoxious siren which was his alarm, Eddie knocked his phone from the edge of his bed. Grumbling, he rubbed his eyes and felt around the cold floor for it. Silencing the phone, he buried his face in his pillow. There was a damp spot from where he drooled, which he chose to ignore. He didn’t want to go downstairs and deal with his mom, nor did he want to deal with anyone else.

Not Richie.

Not Bill.

Not the idea of Frank.

He wanted to lie in bed all day and watch reruns of Hey Arnold.

It was Sunday; he was perfectly within his right to be lazy.

Tilting his phone towards his face, he squinted as his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the screen. There were several messages – a sight he most definitely wasn’t used to. Panic woke him up faster than any alarm could, no matter how loud and ridiculous. Shooting up, his blanket falling to the floor, Eddie’s throat tightened. He struggled to breathe, nervously clicking the notifications.

There were only three people messaging him.

Bill, Richie, and his mother.

Only so much relief was allotted to him. If the town found out he was a superpowered freak, certainly he’d have more than three people trying to reach him.

What would make all three of his only contacts spam him with texts though?

**[From: Mom]**

**4:28** _Eddie-bear, text me as soon as you wake up!  
_ **7:49** _Eddie, sweetie, I’m getting worried. Can you text me? Are you up?_

**[From: Bill]**

**8:00** _Dude, someone called in a bomb threat. School’s out until_ _Thursday_ _!_

**[From: Mom]**

**8:03** _Eddie Kaspbrak, you’ve been sleeping in so much lately. Are you alright? Do we need to take you to another doctor?_

**[From: Richie]**

**9:56** _Hey… can we talk? I know it’s crazy early. I just got home._

Blinking several times, wiping the sleep from his lashes, Eddie reread his messages. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but these definitely weren’t it. Opening his mouth, as if any of them could hear his responses, he shut his lips just as fast. Shaking his head, he tossed his phone aside and sauntered towards the bathroom. The floorboard creaked beneath him, forcing him to freeze.

Downstairs, he heard music through intermittent static. His mother was awake, though he couldn’t fathom why. She rarely stayed up after a night shift – he typically was able to enjoy most of the day without her hovering. The TV was all his, and he could go out for breakfast and lunch to eat some decent food.

Sighing, he washed up and changed into a plain outfit for the day, pausing only to stare at his boring selection of shirts. Plain or striped polos. An occasional plain t-shirt. Jeans. For a split second, he imagined wearing Richie’s jacket over one of his shirts, surprised that he wasn’t imagining Bill’s usual black hoodie.

“Eddie, sweetheart, you slept in so late! I was getting worried,” Sonia called out as soon as he set foot on the first floor. Peering around the wall, he waved sheepishly. His mother was fixing a plate of food she most definitely didn’t cook herself – Eddie spotted the Styrofoam container on the counter behind her. Sausages, biscuits, cheesy eggs and potatoes.

Absolutely not a Sonia Kaspbrak confection.

“I’m fine, Mama. Just had a busy week,” he fibbed, forcing the lie out with significantly more ease than usual. “Aren’t you tired? You really should get some rest.” His eagerness to get her out of his hair came off as genuine concern, which he supposed _was_ sincere, in a sense. There were some nights where he wondered what he would do if he lost Sonia too, but he couldn’t fathom the idea.

“I will, I will,” she fussed over him, kissing the top of his head. “I just wanted to check in with you first. Are you gonna be alright on your own today?” Nodding, he pulled the plate of food closer, as if the action would convince her. He bit into the first sausage, eating fairly quickly. He wasn’t used to being so hungry, but he didn’t pay much attention to the fact. “Alright. Goodnight – or, well, good morning, I guess. Wake me up if you need anything, Eddiekins.”

Although he normally would’ve cringed at the pet name, he was too busy wolfing down his breakfast. His stomach growled as he shoveled in the food, and he was relieved Sonia had already left for her bedroom. She would’ve undoubtedly had questions, and he didn’t have the first clue how to answer.

As he cleaned the plate, wondering if he wanted _more_ , his phone buzzed in his pocket.

**[From: Richie]**

**10:36** _I’m coming up the porch. Gonna knock in sixty seconds if you don’t stop me._

Nearly dropping his phone, Eddie sprinted down the foyer to the door. Yanking it open, he saw Richie sitting languidly on the steps, dramatically examining his nails. Eddie’s eyes were wide, and the glare didn’t change that. His hands raised, and he thought he could strangle Richie for scaring him so early in the day. He didn’t seem to realize this, however, and he hopped to his feet with a smile stretched across his goofy face.

“Eds, we should-”

“No! No, absolutely not! You’re insane, you’re some druggie that has no idea what he’s talking about, and I don’t even get invited to parties like Mike Hanlon’s, so you really don’t know what you saw. You can’t tell anyone, do you understand? I don’t wanna talk about this, and I don’t wanna talk to you!” Eddie scowled in an urgent, but hushed whisper. Richie’s smile faded, and Eddie stormed back into his house, careful not to make too much noise and bring Sonia out.

_I don’t wanna yell at him like that – technically, I guess I didn’t yell, but I wasn’t exactly nice. Richie deserves better than that. He hasn’t blown me off all year. He hasn’t been feeding me fake pills. He didn't fucking abruptly die and leave me to fend for myself._

Eddie closed the door, unsure if Richie could see the apology in his eyes.

Making his way into the living room, he sunk into his father’s recliner and pressed his palms into his eyes. He bit his lip and held in a scream, feeling the tension coil tightly in his chest. If he exploded, then so be it. Lately, he couldn’t do anything right. He couldn’t be honest with himself. He couldn’t say what he meant and mean what he said. He couldn’t be who he wanted to be.

Exploding probably would’ve been easier.

* * *

_Once again, Eddie walked through his basement. Every single detail was exactly as he remembered – from the placement of the furniture, to the dust on the shelves. He always wondered why Frank’s belongings were so dusty; didn’t he use this stuff often?_

_Pacing in the middle of the room, circling around the support beams, he stopped when he heard the stairs creaking._

_Fear soured his stomach, because no one was there. No shadows, no figure. Nothing._

“ _Frankieeeee!” a voice – which sounded suspiciously like Sonia’s – wailed. Eddie felt himself freeze, but his body continued to pace. His own fear was drowned out with a new emotion, invading him without warning. This wasn’t **his** feeling. More than anything, Eddie was confused._

_He had no idea what was happening, but something deep in his chest demanded he feel angry._

_The rage and disbelief spread like fire through his body, reaching down to his toes and out to his fingertips. Beneath his feet, the ground began to tremble. His head pulsed – he could actually feel his brain vibrating in his skull. A migraine attacked him, nearly crippling him. Eddie wanted to scream, and at last, his lips obeyed him and ripped apart._

“ _You’ve been lying to me!” he roared, his voice not his own._

_Suddenly, Sonia stood in front of him. She was in tears, but something was off. She abruptly stopped crying, seemingly annoyed that he was angry. Or... maybe she was annoyed that her tears weren't swaying him._

_Eddie tried to speak, but all he heard was the awful sound of skin splitting, and blood splattering against the walls. All he could see was red._

“Jesus!” Eddie cried, sitting upright in his bed. Breathing heavily, he looked around his room.

No blood splatters or guts.

Downstairs was eerily quiet, however. No static and music from Sonia’s radio.

The only sounds came from the rain outside. Lightning flashed, followed by a small rumble of thunder.

Paralyzed by fear, Eddie didn’t dare move. Only after a solid minute did his lungs protest for air, and he realized he was holding his breath. His sides ached, and all his muscles were tense. This was the third night in a row he dreamed of being in Frank’s basement, but it was the first time there were casualties.

That had been his worst fear since his strange outbursts began.

Now he wasn’t sure what was a dream and what was real.

Biting down hard on his lip, his hand trembled as he opened his door and stepped into the hall. Creeping towards Sonia’s room, he stood outside with his ear pressed against the wall. At first, there was only rain. He strained his ears to hear anything, and finally, he was greeted with a snore.

Relief hit him like a train, knocking the wind out of him. Momentarily, he again forgot how to breathe.

But as soon as he remembered, he ran down the stairs, stopping only to rush back up and change his clothes. He brushed his teeth and splashed water over his face, attempting to think twice about what he was going to do. Richie hadn’t tried to contact him after the first day, but Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was the only other person in the world who knew, and so far, he hadn’t brought anyone to capture Eddie for science or government purposes.

Richie Tozier was too punk for that, but he probably wasn’t too punk to have his feelings hurt.

Taking a deep breath, Eddie left his house cautiously, glancing over his shoulder until he was safely out of view, and in the Tozier’s yard. He paused at the base of the steps, noticing his bike leaning against the fence. In his panic, he’d forgotten it in the woods. He wasn’t necessarily surprised that Richie didn’t leave it, but at the same time, he was. Richie was more thoughtful than Eddie would’ve been.

He definitely didn’t deserve the backlash Eddie dished out.

Shaking off the thoughts, he rapped his knuckles on the door.

“Well, hello hello, neighbor! What brings you over?” Maggie Tozier greeted as she swung the door open. She beamed at the sight of Eddie, as if he were a regular at her house. Sheepishly smiling back, Eddie waved awkwardly.

“Richie wouldn’t happen to be here, would he?” Eddie pushed his forefingers together, looking as suspicious as he felt. Maggie didn’t seem to find anything wrong, however, and she stepped aside to allow him in.

“Upstairs! You want a drink? I just made some lemonade,” she offered. Eddie shook his head, wondering what the time was. His dreams were short, but they kept him knocked out for several hours. He wasn’t used to waking up so late in the day. “Alright; the offer is always on the table if you change your mind.” She nodded, making her way back to the kitchen. Eddie watched after her for only a moment before ascending the stairs. The wall was lined with photos of the family, documenting the years as Richie grew up. He paused when he spotted a class picture from grade school; Richie was in the back, since he was one of the taller kids. Meanwhile, Eddie was at the bottom, with all the tiny kids.

The height difference wasn’t as drastic these days – Richie was only a head taller.

Stopping outside his door – which was quite unmistakably his, judging from the clumsily taped collage of magazine cutouts ranging from bands to movies to video games – Eddie lifted his fist to knock. He didn’t know what he was going to say, nor did he believe Richie would simply forgive and forget. He had no right to just come over and ask for a huge favor after everything. Perhaps it was all a bad idea-

_I wish I was more in control of myself._

Eddie tapped on the door before he knew what he was doing.

“Come in,” Richie’s voice called out, and against his better judgment, Eddie listened. He squeezed through as narrow of a gap as he could, closing the door behind him. They needed privacy for what he wanted to talk about – or maybe his parents would write them off as role-playing nerds. He could’ve passed for that, and he was relieved by the idea. Richie slowly spun around in his chair, his fingertips pressed together as he sat pensively. “You come to me on this, the last day of our small vacation.” His poor Godfather impression was laughable, but Eddie was too stressed to humor him.

He smiled, but he couldn’t keep it up.

“Richie, I need to talk to you – I need to apologize for yelling,” he began, frowning when Richie shook his head and waved him off. “Please, I need your help, and before I even ask, I wanna say I'm sorry. Cause I am. You're the only person in the whole world who knows about... you know, stuff, and you're also the only person aside from my dad who's ever been so nice to me.” Richie was staring at his desk, but at this, he looked up. Eddie didn’t know if his appearance or expression gave anything away, but he supposed he shouldn’t have been shocked if it did. His sleep was off, his eating was erratic, and his moods were all over the place. It was a second wave of puberty, but worse.

“You look like hell, Eds,” was all Richie said. Eddie huffed, breathing sharply from his nose. However, within a single moment, he relaxed. There was concern in Richie’s eyes, and as he stood, he approached with caution. “I was hoping you’d come over sooner. I mean, I wanted to talk to you right then and there – I even called in that bomb threat so we’d have more time without school or-”

“That was _you_?!” Eddie shrieked, immediately having his mouth covered by Richie. Swatting his hands away, Eddie staggered back, bumping into the wall. His eyes were wide, getting bigger by the second as Richie nonchalantly waved his hands.

“Relax! I drove out to Chamberlain after… the party,” Richie chose his words carefully, which Eddie had to appreciate. “There was a phone booth outside town, and I paid the homeless guy peeing in it to make the call. There’s no cameras around and he’s transient. I gave him a ride back so he could take advantage of the bus station. They’ll never trace it back to me.” He sounded so confident, that trusting him felt right. Eddie’s hands were in his hair, tugging at tufts that were fortunate enough to not be ripped out.

“Richie, that’s _so illegal_ ,” he hissed, glancing over his shoulder as if the police would burst through. Rolling his eyes with a grin, Richie looked Eddie over again.

“I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine,” Richie bargained, a hint of knowing in his tone. Eddie paused, his brow furrowing as he mulled over the offer. Tilting his head, he stared at Richie, unsure of what to expect. Now that he thought about it, Richie Tozier was one of the smartest kids in their class. Whenever he got in trouble, he appeared to be happy – as if that was exactly what he wanted. Suddenly, Eddie realized it probably was.

He knew exactly what to say to gain Eddie’s trust.

Now they both had big secrets to keep.

The playing field was even, and Richie wasn’t going to expose him or hand him over to the government for testing.

Of course, a stupid bomb threat was nothing in comparison to actually having the capability of blowing things up with mind powers.

“This isn’t a joke, Richie. I think I’m losing my mind, and I need to know this isn’t a game to you. _Please_ , I- I don’t know what’s happening to me, and you’re the only other person who knows. Do you even believe what you saw? _I_ hardly believe it, but now I’m having these weird dreams, and this morning I thought I killed my mom, and what if I _do_? I’ve been blowing things up and ripping trees from the roots in the ground and I don’t know how to stop it!” Eddie’s chest rose and fell, his heart beating faster than he cared to know. The words spilled out like vomit, and there was nothing he could do to stop himself.

His breathing was labored, and he felt a dull ache in his head. Richie stared at him with increasing concern, his brows knit together as he thought about what to say next. After a minute, he stood and walked past Eddie, opening his door to check the hallways. When he was satisfied, he returned to his desk and grabbed his car keys. Using one of them to unlock a drawer, he removed a small plastic bag. Inside, was yet another cookie.

“Here-”

“I don’t think I should be getting high-”

“Eds. You need to relax. Seriously,” Richie instructed, breaking the cookie in half. He nibbled on his, thrusting Eddie’s piece into his palm. “I don’t know what I saw in the woods that night. I was hoping you could explain, but it sounds like you’re just as lost as me. If we’re gonna get to the bottom of this, we have to clear our minds.” Placing a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, he gave him a light squeeze. Eddie frowned, staring at the cookie.

“You’re acting shockingly cavalier about all of this. Why are you being so... helpful?” he questioned. Richie shrugged, raising a brow.

“Why are you being so suspicious? This is the most interesting thing that could happen – not just in Derry, but the whole world. I’d be crazy to take any other approach,” he said. Motioning to the cookie, he scarfed down the rest of his. Eddie hesitated, his phone abruptly much heavier in his pocket. Sonia would text or call at some point, because she always expected him to be home whenever she woke up.

Gulping, he stuffed the cookie into his mouth and chewed slowly. Once he swallowed, he looked to Richie and asked, “What now?” Taking Eddie’s hand, Richie swirled his keys around his finger.

“We go for a cruise on that pretty stretch of highway,” he nearly sang, leading Eddie out. While the tiny, suspiciously Sonia-sounding voice in his brain screamed about driving under the influence, the rest of him gladly followed. There were too many fucked up things going on for him to care. If Richie could help him get to the bottom of what was happening to him, Eddie was willing to do just about anything.

* * *

_I really **do** like hanging out with Richie. I like when we can get high and do nothing but drive. I like driving. There’s something so freeing about being able to go anywhere at any point in time. Maybe that’s why Ma’s so reluctant to let me. She knows I won’t stay._

Leaving Derry meant leaving Richie, though… Eddie supposed he would tag along if he only asked. Richie seemed down for anything; for fuck’s sake, he was approaching the supposedly impossible with much more grace than Eddie.

And he wasn’t even the one afflicted with super powers.

They drove for hours, and Eddie was too lost in the feeling of wind on his face to fully realize when they left town. He wasn’t sure where they were going, but he didn’t care. There were nights he thought about packing a bag and hitchhiking to New York. Although he wasn’t sure why he wanted to go there, he knew it had to be better than Derry.

When Richie finally stopped his van, they were in a random neighborhood in Portland, three hours from home. The houses looked identical to the ones in Derry, but the overcast of gloom didn’t feel quite the same. He breathed easier here.

“This band I like does pop-up shows; they’re performing out of some dude’s garage,” Richie explained, his hand clasped around Eddie’s. He didn’t let go as they approached the house with a small crowd of people. The mini concert was at the end of a cul-de-sac, and music echoed halfway down the street. Eddie squeezed Richie’s hand as they weaved through the line of people, cutting to the front.

The singer wore a loose beanie which could barely contain his wild hair. It was tied back in a bun, but looked as if it might reach the middle of his back when set free. He wore a black and white pinstriped hoodie, with a gray shirt underneath. Eddie was mildly disgusted to notice he was barefoot, but he was quickly distracted by what the man was shouting into his microphone.

“Tonight we have a chance to say, yeah, you’re right. We’re too extreme. We’re too wild, we’re too out of control. We’re too full of our own shit,” he hollered, with increasing aggression and volume. Pausing, he held up his finger, tilting it to point at Eddie. “Or we have a chance to say, hey! Fuck you, you’re wrong! Fuck you, we’re right!” The crowd began screaming; Eddie surprised himself by joining in. “Because you have all made it to the dance; believe me, _this_ is the dance!” The beat picked up, and he was jumping beside Richie.

His heart raced, and at some point, someone put a glow stick in his hand.

_(Fuck you, we’re right!)_

Richie twirled him around, dipping him with a smile and cackle. Eddie danced – a term he used very loosely – with a fluidity he’d never experienced before. He moved without a second thought, his entire body relaxed. The thoughts of his overbearing mother, dead father, impossible super powers, and being embarrassed in front of Bill evaporated. At once, he wondered why he had never gone to a concert before. Of course Sonia would never allow it, but why? Was it the taste of freedom she truly feared him having? Driving. Concerts. _Living_. She couldn't bear the thought of him doing it without her, and his resentment was more clear than it had ever been.

He moved with the wind, but also the rhythm of the music – and only a week ago, he probably wouldn’t have considered this music. That had to be Sonia talking, because suddenly, this sounded like the best song he’d ever heard. Dancing with Richie was breathtaking… though he may have simply overexerted himself. He couldn’t tell, but he hardly cared. His asthma was nonexistent - probably because everything Sonia had diagnosed him with was.

_God, it feels so good to not care._

Eddie was still dancing when they found their way back to the van. Richie reminded him to buckle up, and before he knew it, they were already back in Derry.

The effects of the edibles were wearing off, and the sun was beginning to set.

Richie slowed to a stop at an intersection, and before Eddie could think about what he was doing, he leaned over to kiss him. If this was his plan to make Eddie loosen up and relax, it worked. This was what he needed all along, and if Bill wasn't a good enough friend to see he was in distress, and if his mother wasn't a good enough parent to know she was doing more harm than good, then fuck them. They were wrong, and Richie was right.

Eddie wasn’t sure what he expected back, but he couldn’t deny the disappointment when Richie only smiled and let him pull away.

“Richie, I-”

“No, Eds, don’t- I just-”

A siren went off behind them, interrupting Richie with red and blue lights. Muttering a curse under his breath, Richie turned off the van, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. Eddie sobered up immediately, turning to stare straight ahead. The windows were down, and with the music off, he could hear the crunch of gravel beneath the sheriff’s boots.

Butch Bowers stopped at the window, spitting his chewing tobacco by Richie’s front tire. His snarky grin made Eddie’s brow quirk, and he struggled to hide the hostility.

“Kaspbrak and Tozier, why am I not surprised?” he said, looking over the van.

“What’s the problem, officer?” Richie asked, as if this were only a mild inconvenience. Truthfully, it was. There was no reason Butch needed to stop him, but Eddie suspected why he chose to. He and his son, Henry, threw some unflattering slurs his way pretty often.

“The problem is with your passenger,” he stated, pointing his flashlight directly in Eddie’s face. Eddie’s brow furrowed. The red and blue lights were still flashing, and they were beginning to disorient him. “I don’t think your mom would approve of what you’re out here doing. Does she know where you are? Phone’s been ringing off the hook at the station. You reckon it’s that tub of guts?” Eddie’s hands curled into fists on his lap. Sure, he was angry with Sonia, but no one else had the right to insult her.

“Officer, if we weren’t doing anything, I’m invoking my right to remain silent. Eds-”

“Why don’t you shut that trap then, Tozier? I could ticket you right now for a busted tail light,” Butch threatened. Richie’s brow furrowed, his torso twisting to look at the back of his van, as if he could actually see the light.

“It’s not-”

But before he could finish speaking, Butch was walking around the vehicle. Eddie had an idea of what he was about to do, and he didn’t like it at all. Scowling, he remembered what happened to Greta’s tires the first time she snatched Bill from him.

 _Tires. Exploding tires. Fuck his tires. Fuck his cop car. Fuck him,_ Eddie thought, shutting his eyes tightly.

Butch Bowers was unjust. He was a crooked cop in a shitty town. He encouraged his son to torment him and other kids with no repercussions. All he ever did was talk a bunch of shit and fake charges against innocent people if he didn't like them. His wife left him because he was insane, and she was homeless without him. He was a fucking asshole-

“What in the hell!?” Butch hollered, an eardrum-shattering pop bursting behind them. The squad car lifted from the ground at least three feet, hitting the pavement with a loud crash. Pieces of rubber were scattered across the road, exposing the metal rims on the car. Richie’s eyes widened, his head jerking towards Eddie.

“Eds-”

Butch’s face reappeared in the window, furiously glaring at them. He held up his finger, pointing at Eddie threateningly.

“Your old man was a troublemaker too, and he got what was coming to him,” Butch growled. Richie opened his mouth to argue, but Butch cut him off. “You get the hell out of my sight.” However, before officially letting them go, he leaned closer and added, “I’ll catch you in the act one day, Kaspbrak. And when I do…” He smiled crookedly. Wickedly.

Richie rolled up his window, forcing Butch’s hand off. He didn’t say a word as they drove off, picking up speed once they were out of sight. He waited several minutes before speaking, giving Eddie time to take a breather.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s stopped me for stupider shit,” Richie huffed, turning down their street. “He used to bug our dads a lot too when they were kids. In fact, my dad told me that one time, he pissed himself.” Richie's voice trailed off, a thought seeming to occur to him. Eddie was too busy thinking to notice, however. He supposed the anecdote should have comforted him, but he was stuck.

“Our dads were friends?” he questioned, confused.

That didn’t make sense to him. If Frank and Mr. Tozier were friends, how could they live next door to each other for a decade and not spend any time together? On occasion, Frank would go out, but was he really only going one house over? Eddie’s brow furrowed, as did Richie’s.

“You didn’t know?” Richie sounded incredulous, which bothered Eddie. He wasn’t necessarily annoyed with Richie, but rather himself. His dreams were so terrifyingly real, and as out of character as he thought Frank was in them, he realized he couldn’t say for certain.

Eddie stared at Richie with a mixture of uncertainty, and slight awe.

“I never knew our dads were friends,” he confessed. There was plenty he didn’t know about Frank Kaspbrak, and in hindsight, he wished he’d asked. He didn’t know what difference it would’ve made, but at least he wouldn’t have felt so ignorant. “Richie?” His voice was no louder than a whisper.

“What is it?” Richie slowed to a crawl, looking at Eddie carefully.

“I haven’t been allowed in the basement since Dad died. That’s… _where_ he died,” he explained slowly, choosing each word with caution. “But that’s also where he spent most of his time when he wasn’t with me.” Richie nodded, though Eddie could tell he wasn’t sure where this was going. “I think I need to go down there, and I’m afraid I can’t do it alone.” Biting his lip, Richie parked by the curb in front of his house, strumming his fingertips on the wheel.

"I can come over tonight, if you want. Your mom is working, right?" Richie asked, glancing at the Kaspbrak house. The narrow, rectangular window that peered into the basement was brown with rust and dust. Eddie nodded; it would be easy to sneak Richie in. He wouldn't even really have to sneak. "I have to ask my dad a few questions about your dad, but I'll be there. Promise." Holding out his pinkie, he smiled when Eddie took it without any hesitation. "And also, about the kiss-"

"Richie, it's fine, I was high-"

"I wouldn't mind if it happened again. I just... wanna be sure that you're sure. Okay?"

Blinking, Eddie opened his mouth to respond, but shut it when he understood that no response would ever suffice. Instead, he smiled bashfully and looked down at their hands. They were only an inch apart, and he took the initiative to reach out and place his over Richie's.

So what if this had nothing to do with his dad, or getting to the root of his super powers? He deserved a break. He could handle facing the remnants of his father later, and with true support from Richie.

_I don't care how ridiculous it is to not have telekinetic powers be at the top of my to-do list. It's my list, and I'll decide what comes first._


	5. Chapter 5

Midnight rolled around and Eddie expected to venture downstairs, exploring the basement which had become a tomb for his father’s memory. The walls would be cold and there would be no light – completely ignoring the fact that the house had working electricity and heat. His imagination would’ve run wild were he not preoccupied with Richie Tozier’s mouth.

Sonia left for her overnight shift at the hospital, kissing the top of Eddie’s head and believing him to be asleep. She straightened up his desk – which had books strewn across the surface – and huffed when she accidentally knocked over a cup of pencils. Eddie cracked one eye open to see her glancing at her watch and leaving without tidying the mess.

Straining his ears, he listened for the front door to open and shut, then waited until her beaten up sedan revved to check his window. She pulled out of the driveway, disappearing down the street about fifteen minutes before eleven o’clock.

He sent a text to Richie, alerting him that the coast was clear, and Richie tapped on the window of the backdoor within the same minute.

Eddie found flashlights from the garage, and spare face masks that Sonia had taken from the hospital.

But when he opened the door to let Richie in, all he could manage to do was grip the lapels of his jacket and yank him close for a kiss.

So now, an hour later, they were still perched on his dusty, tattered sofa.

Making out.

Quite well, in Eddie’s opinion (though he had nothing to compare it to).

Richie pulled up music on his phone, and they kissed to the unromantic sounds of his weird folk punk band, but that ultimately made it charming to Eddie. They were saying fuck off to the standard image of romance and creating something all their own. Nothing was more punk rock.

“Eds?” Richie whispered, his voice husky as he pulled away. Eddie’s lips remained puckered for a brief moment, turning into a pout as he slumped on the couch. “I don’t really wanna stop either, but we were supposed to look through your dad’s stuff, weren’t we?” Sighing and sinking further into the cushion, Eddie yanked the throw blanket down to hide his face.

“We could just keep kissing,” Eddie suggested, though he knew Richie was right. He wanted to see what secrets his father kept. He’d be lying if he said the thoughts hadn’t plagued him with increasing nuisance in the past week. Groaning, he wiped the dampness from the side of his mouth and stood up, holding his hand out for Richie to take.

_Since when is Richie the responsible one? I guess I really believed Ma when she said that he was a slacker._

When he looked at the facts, he realized _he_ was more of a slacker than Richie Tozier was. Regardless of whether or not he was a pleasure to have in class, Richie was the true pleasure. He made all A’s in his courses and could outsmart any given teacher if he wanted. He thought the rewards for the honor roll students were lame, but he still made the list, because there was no benefit to doing the opposite. If he did whatever he wanted, it was because he earned the right.

Eddie could hardly put in a fraction of the effort. His grades were always in the B’s, varying from high to low. The drive to do anything was usually put into judging his peers.

_Oh God, don’t let me become my mother._

Though he loathed admitting it, he was more like Sonia than he cared to believe. He blinked, and suddenly he was almost her carbon copy. Instead of doing the things he wanted to do, he found a reason to avoid it. He knew how to shift the blame and manipulate situations in his mind so he wasn’t at fault. He assumed to know everyone’s story and proceed to judge what his imagination conjured up. For a large portion of his life, he allowed himself to be stuck, passively living life and never questioning anything.

 _However,_ he reached a point now where he recognized those traits he hated. Eddie could admit he was wrong, which was something he knew his mother found impossible. The pieces of himself he liked, he wanted to work on. He wanted people to know him for _those_ reasons.

Eddie Kaspbrak is helpful.

Eddie Kaspbrak is a fantastic navigator; it’s incredible how natural it comes to him.

Eddie Kaspbrak is remarkably witty when he manages to get that quip in.

_I care about people and I **want** to care. That doesn’t make me weak. It never has and it never could. Ma just… hates people and wants me to hate them too._

While he knew for a fact Sonia was happier on her own, he didn’t understand _why_. Exploring the basement wasn’t just to potentially learn about Frank, but also his mother. If Sonia had truly been part of the Bowie family before marrying Frank, then Eddie wanted to know what kept them from interacting with his aunts, uncles, and cousins.

Regardless of whether or not they were halfway decent people, it didn’t matter. He was too ignorant about his own life, and he was sick of the fact.

Actually sick.

Not pretend sick, the way Sonia wanted him to be.

“You ready for this, Eddie?” Richie asked, his hand on the doorknob. Eddie’s heartbeat pulsed through his entire body; he could feel the vibrations just underneath the skin. He didn’t need to be high to feel the blood racing, pushing through each vein in the web of his body.

Nodding, he pushed the door open and walked past Richie. Feeling along the wall, he flipped the switch on, surprised that the lights worked. He supposed he shouldn’t have been, but the shock was a nice, distracting emotion from the nerves. His stomach twisted into knots, tightening with each creaky step he took down.

Once Eddie reached the foot of the stairs, he gasped for a breath, abruptly realizing he’d been holding it. Richie placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed – the emotional support was far more helpful than Eddie anticipated. With the simple touch, he managed to walk deeper into the basement, instead of whirling around on his heel and fleeing to the safety of his bedroom.

“Oh God…” Eddie mumbled, staring at the wreckage. A small construction team – consisting of two old men named Tony and Philip Tracker – came through and fixed the support beams so the house wouldn’t collapse, but they hadn’t done anything else. Eddie had been too focused on organizing a funeral at the time; Sonia had a full plate between repairing the cellar and working overnight. She refused to take time off, because she always _did_ prefer work over familial issues.

Perhaps it wasn’t so unbelievable that she would completely cover up her ties to the Bowie’s.

“I heard your dad died in an explosion, but… holy shit,” Richie mumbled, reaching out to feel along the cracked walls. Pipes were exposed closer to the ceiling, bits of drywall were scattered along the floor, and faint stains of blood were splattered across every surface. “Eddie, you doing okay?” The words bounced around in Eddie’s head, but he couldn’t process them.

He was too busy looking at the dusty remnants of his father.

An untouched set of golf clubs were propped against the wall. Further in the cellar, a table saw stood, also completely unused. The tie around the power cord was still attached; no one had ever plugged it in. There were tools hanging neatly on the wall; screws, nails, and bolts were properly sorted into mason jars on the workbench.

In one corner, there were rolled up sleeping bags and a folded tent. There was a large ice chest beside that, and a grill in the opposite corner. Closer to the light, Frank had another desk set up, though it was emptier than the workbench with all the tools.

Eddie supposed this should’ve been odd, but the entire room was strange.

He’d never known Frank to have interest in any of these things.

“These are all… generic dad things. Like, when I think of a dad, this is the stuff I think of,” Eddie murmured, running a hand through his hair. Cautiously, he approached the empty desk, feeling around for a drawer. Upon first glance, there wasn’t room for one. However, as he felt around, the top of the desk came loose. Moving the surface, his eyes widened in surprise.

Stacked neatly in the storage, which was no more than three inches deep, were manuscripts and journals. Lifting one notebook, he noticed a real book sitting underneath. Richie eagerly yanked it out, his eyes becoming as wide as Eddie’s.

“Hey… my dad used to read this to me. He said he knew the author personally, and-” Richie cut himself off, running his fingertips over the cover. Eddie stared at the author name, printed in gold lettering.

F.K. Stephen.

At first, the name meant nothing to Eddie.

Then he began skimming through the unfinished manuscripts, bound together with cheap ribbon. The same name was signed on the dedication page.

“Wait…”

For Richie, it clicked much faster.

“Your dad was a writer?!” he asked, setting the book down to search for more. “He wrote- Eds, how could you not say anything?! You’ve gotta be rich – why do you live _here_?” Eddie wanted to ask just as many questions, but he was too focused on the fact that he had no idea his father was a published writer. Richie grinned incredulously, flipping through the pages of another book. “These were my favorite. The main character – his name was Teddy – he had superpowers that he got from some asteroid that landed in his town thousands of years prior. He didn’t become a masked hero or anything, he just goofed off with his best friend, Wormy.” Richie explained the story enthusiastically, but Eddie couldn’t make sense of anything.

“Superpowers?” he repeated, only able to latch onto the single word.

Turning to the final page, Eddie frowned when he realized it was unfinished. The last word Frank had typed was “found.”

_Teddy found. What did he find?_

Feeling along the smooth paper, Eddie tried to imagine Frank writing stories.

“Eddie? Eddie!” Richie called out to him, but his voice was becoming more and more faint. Eddie suddenly felt as though he were falling – but if he were truly going down, he would’ve hit the concrete by now.

_When he landed, Eddie stood in the year 1987. The only reason he knew was because of the newspaper stand before him. The date printed on the Derry Chronicle was March 11 th._

_1987._

_Kids sped on their bikes past him, one of whom bared a striking resemblance to Richie Tozier. His dark, curly hair bounced on his shoulders, and his glasses were hanging off the edge of his nose. Eddie didn’t think twice – he followed the group until he reached the old Kissing Bridge._

_There were several people crowded around; city workers and police were at the large drain pipes leading into the sewers. A camera crew filmed as a local reporter gave the story live._

“ _Officials have reported a body was found – an unidentified child, between the ages of nine and twelve. I think they’re bringing him out now,” the woman said into her microphone._

_In front of Eddie, one of the kids snickered. He was filthy, in torn up clothes and no shoes – his feet were almost black with dirt. He had a familiar craziness in his eyes, and all he was missing was the mullet._

“ _Hey Denbrough, I’ll bet anything the body’s a dead one,” he said. The boy beside him grimaced and shook his head. “I’ll kick your ass when you don’t pay up.” Wiping snot from his nose, he sniffed and leaned over the fence._

_Below, the city workers led out a small, raven haired boy. Eddie swore he looked a lot like himself._

“ _So much for that dead body, huh, Butch?” the boy teased, climbing onto his bike. Immediately, Eddie realized who he was. Zack Denbrough, Bill’s father._

_Which meant that the Richie Tozier look-alike was, in fact, Wentworth Tozier._

_He could go out on a limb and say the child found in the sewers was-_

_Eddie staggered backward; his surroundings changed in a whirl of color. He reached out, but the blurs drifted away like smoke._

_When the world came back to normal, he was stood in a hospital. The boy from the sewers was lying in bed, while a small girl lingered by his door. She wore a visitor tag which read, “Hello, my name is Margaret Snell.” She had crossed out the name and clumsily written “Maggie” underneath. Eddie could tell by her wild, frizzy hair that she was a young Maggie Tozier. She was listening to the adults in the next room, who were all discussing the strange boy. When he looked up, she waved timidly, and he waved back._

“ _What’s your name?” she asked, her voice light and airy._

“ _I remember being called Frankie,” he whispered, his voice hoarse._

_Eddie stepped forward, aware that no one could see or hear him, but still wanting to try and reach his father._

_But the scene changed again, and this time, Eddie stood in Bassey Park. There seemed to be no change in time – judging from the clothes and hair, it was still the 80s. Wentworth dropped his bike, sprinting across the freshly cut grass towards two other kids._

_Frank Kaspbrak was on the ground, while Butch Bowers pelted him with ice cream._

“ _Hey! Hey stop!” Wentworth cried, running over to them. Butch grinned maliciously, and Eddie could see that Henry inherited the expression. As Butch turned, the melting mounds of ice cream behind him began levitating. Wentworth froze, his eyes widening in shock and fear. Frank pushed himself up, wiping blood from his nose. Veins were sticking out on his forehead, and the ice cream lurched forward, smacking Butch square in the face._

“ _What the fuck!” he screamed, backing away. Frank charged towards him, and Butch froze, the front of his pants becoming dark as urine streamed down his leg. Wentworth covered his mouth, holding in giggles. Eddie couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but he hadn’t been allowing himself to since **he** started displaying strange powers._

_The scene around him swirled again, but this time, Eddie watched what felt like a highlight reel of Frank’s childhood. He and Wentworth Tozier were inseparable, spending all their days and nights together. Frank showed Wentworth his superpowers, and Wentworth pinkie promised that he would keep his secret. They rode their bikes to the Barrens every chance they got, reading comic books and cracking jokes._

_As the seasons passed, Frank became part of the Tozier family. He spent more time with them than he did at the orphanage._

_Eddie heard his voice drift from the memories, explaining to Wentworth, “I can’t remember anything before going into the sewers. I know that I was called Frankie. I don’t know if that’s short for just Frank or Franklin. I picked my last name cause I saw it in the library. That’s not even the weirdest thing about me, Went. You saw what I can do.”_

_When the swirls of their faces came to a stop, Eddie stumbled backward. He stood in the Falcon bar, which he knew was settled next to the bus station. Frank briskly walked out, with Wentworth close behind. Eddie didn’t have to think – his feet carried him out to follow them._

“ _Frank, do you know what you’re doing?” Wentworth demanded, reaching out to pull Frank back by his shoulder. Frank became stiff, staring at the ground. “She’s only using you to piss off her family. She won’t commit to a real marriage.” His hands were balled into fists at his sides. Frank sighed and shoved his own hands into his pockets._

“ _I know. Her father told me, in no uncertain terms, that I would put Sonia in poverty if I were to marry her. She wouldn’t get a dime of his money,” Frank said, a small, knowing smile on his face. Wentworth’s brow rose, confusion clear on his face. “She’s a grown up; she knows what she’s choosing.” At this, Wentworth snorted and shook his head._

“ _She doesn’t love you. It’s not fair, Frankie,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair._

_The same hand his wedding ring was on._

_Frank only met Sonia because she came to Wentworth and Maggie’s ceremony. Suddenly, they were an item. Wentworth assumed he was dating her to inch his way closer to the Bowie inheritance. He couldn’t blame him, after growing up with nothing, but Sonia was awful to be around. He knew Frank couldn’t stand her._

_Money had never held much value for him anyways._

_So what was the point of living a life with Sonia Bowie?_

_She was a selfish brat who grew up in a family that cared about wealth more than each other. Status was the real currency for them, and Frank had none, which dragged Sonia down enough to be an embarrassment. Wentworth couldn’t see a good reason for either of them to agree to marriage._

“ _I don’t love her either. Just as much as she’s using me, I’m using her,” Frank confessed, turning to face Wentworth at last. “Someone as average as Sonia Bowie is likely to cancel out whatever is extraordinary about me. Any children I have can be normal. **I** can be normal.” After a pause, Frank grinned and added, “We can be those dads that have a motorcycle club on Sundays, and talk about our barbecue grills.” Wentworth couldn't resist laughing._

“ _That sounds awful,” he said._

_Nodding, Frank chuckled._

“ _I look forward to it.”_

_For the final time, the world around Eddie swirled, ignoring how desperately he reached out to touch his father._

“Eddie!” Richie’s hands were on his shoulders. He shook him roughly, and Eddie sucked in a sharp breath, yanking himself away. “Dude, are you okay? Your eyes rolled back- I thought you were having a seizure or something!” Breathing heavily, Eddie stumbled, nearly falling over. His mind was hazy, and his balance was completely gone. “Easy there.” Richie spoke quietly, catching him before he fell. “What happened?” Gripping Richie’s arm tightly, Eddie waited until he could stand on his own to reach for more journals.

“I saw our dads. They _were_ friends-”

“Wait, what do you mean you _saw_ them?” Richie’s brow furrowed. Shaking his head, Eddie bit his lip.

“I don’t know how to explain – I was _there_ ,” he said, though he wasn’t paying any mind to the words that left his mouth. Instead, he focused on the journal in his hands. Frank kept diaries as well – apparently, he published the crazier ones and they became best sellers. Perhaps that was how they could afford their house, while he remained a stay-at-home dad.

Sonia always made it seem as though they were poor, and maybe by her standards, they were. Eddie didn’t realize until now, but he was comfortable. He and Frank had always been content in their lives; the only reason he thought to be unhappy was his mother.

Whimpering, Eddie turned through the pages as fast as he could read them.

Frank’s voice echoed in his head, reading along with each passage.

_Yesterday, I visited the sewers. It was the first time in twenty years. I found the asteroid I woke up next to – somehow no one else could ever stumble upon it. Those sewers were an impossible maze for everyone. Except me. Maybe I was chosen._

Not once had Frank mentioned anything about the sewers. Although… he did once agree with Sonia on the subject of Eddie avoiding the Barrens. Usually, he thought Sonia was overreacting, and restricting Eddie’s life as a regular boy. The one thing they agreed on was the sewers. Frank wouldn’t provide reasoning, but Eddie recalled sensing there was something more.

Something he just… couldn’t put his finger on.

_I found the cure. I suppose I can’t call it a cure, but it solves the problem of Eddie’s powers. He deserves to live a normal life. He deserves to live without the burden of secrets. The same rocks that gave me power can take them away._

There were pictures drawn underneath the passage. One of them depicted a turtle, and the arrow beside it pointed to red rocks. The other picture was of a spider, and the corresponding arrow pointed to teal rocks.

_The only thing I remember about waking up in those sewers was the turtle. As crazy as it sounds, it told me to touch those rocks and I would share some of its’ power. I could protect it from falling into the wrong hands. When I went back, I met the spider. I was able to crush it, but I can’t stop thinking about what it said. If I ever wanted to suppress the powers, I could take some of its’ gems. I crushed one into a powder and sprinkled it on Eddie’s dinner. I’ve never felt so guilty, but it’s the first night he’s slept soundly in months._

Breathing sharply, Eddie held back a sob. Richie had become silent, reading over his shoulder. A page was missing, which slowed Eddie to a stop. He felt along the ripped edges, wondering what could’ve been missing. Spelling errors didn’t seem to matter – Frank simply crossed through them and kept going. He wasn’t sure what could’ve warranted tearing a page out, until he read further. The next sentence started in the middle.

_-was a mistake. I regret ever writing the recipe. I told Sonia the truth, and I won’t let her drug my son. She doesn’t believe me, but she doesn’t need to. Eddie is my responsibility. When the time comes, I’ll teach him how to control his powers._

Trembling, Eddie dropped the journal. His vision blurred; his eyes had become wet without him noticing. He didn’t know how long they had been in the basement, but he also suddenly didn’t know how much time had passed since Frank Kaspbrak died. None of it felt linear, because memories began bursting through the floodgates, and Eddie swore he knew about Frank’s writing.

Truthfully though, he hadn’t. He didn’t know about a damn thing.

He never asked because he was always placated by his mundane life – rather, he was always _medicated_.

Frank didn’t want him to be, but somehow, Sonia kept him on those phony placebos. Except they weren’t sugar pills. They were the “cure” Frank claimed to have found. Eddie imagined if he asked, Sonia would cry her way out of explaining.

But now he had an idea of the truth.

“The powers came from my dad. He and your dad used to goof around with them – your dad knew this whole time,” Eddie explained, looking up to meet Richie’s gaze. “I think Dad wrote these stories because they were just the truth to him. He did it so I would be taken care of. That’s all he ever wanted for me.” Most of the questions that plagued him lately were finding their own answers.

Sonia was, simply put, a terrible person. She was bitter because she didn’t have the riches and luxury she was accustomed to. Frank didn’t subscribe to the lifestyle, therefore she took all of her irritation out on him and Eddie.

If he had to make a guess, the missing page had the recipe for the “cure,” and perhaps Sonia had it or memorized the contents. All she would’ve needed was to find those gems once, and take enough to keep making the pills. She had a job at the hospital; it wouldn’t have been too difficult. Being close to Keene provided her a good cover, and he was crooked enough to not care. What difference would sugar pills have made to him anyway? He was getting paid.

Then, of course, there was the subject of his powers.

They had always been present, but they were never given a chance to bloom. Frank made it clear that he could possibly control them, and that lifted a majority of the weight on his shoulders.

His biggest problem was Frank being dead. If the explosion hadn’t killed him, they could be talking openly about Eddie’s powers.

Of course… he probably wouldn’t have them. Frank was the catalyst.

Eddie’s brow furrowed. Something about that particular piece of the puzzle didn’t fit, but he was far too tired to dwell on it. All he wanted was to go back upstairs and take a breather.

“Eddie? Are you alright?” Richie asked softly, cradling his face in his palm. Eddie tilted his head to kiss the side of Richie’s hand, chuckling uncertainly.

“I’m not sure,” he confessed. He felt too crazed by the events of the last week; wrapping his mind around them completely should’ve been impossible. Eddie wasn’t supposed to be this calm – he never had been before.

It didn’t seem to matter, though. Not now. Not anymore.

“You’re kinda scaring me.” Richie tried to laugh, but it was clearly forced.

“I’m sorry – I don’t mean to, I’m just…” Eddie’s voice trailed off. He looked around the basement, wishing Frank was there to tell him how to proceed. His biggest problem had been moving on. Since the funeral, he’d been stuck, and that had always been his worst fear. Being stuck in Derry with Sonia was a nightmare, but also a strong possibility. Unless he did something different. Grabbing Richie by his shoulders, he pulled him in for another kiss. “Run away with me.”

For a second, Richie didn’t say anything. He blinked, shocked into silence.

“What?”

“Run away with me. I’m eighteen, you’re gonna be eighteen in a couple months. We can just go! Take your van and never come back to this shitty town,” Eddie suggested, his words toppling from his lips with a fierce urgency. A smile broke out across his face; this was the first plan in his life that truly made sense. He didn’t belong in Derry.

He could see himself packing all of his father’s journals and stories, a little bit of clothes, and the money he’d been saving. If Frank sat on a fortune, there had to be a reason Sonia had yet to seize it. Eddie had a strong feeling that Frank left it all to him.

There was _**no**_ reason to stay in Derry.

“Eddie…” Richie’s voice was no louder than a whisper. Biting his lip, he searched Eddie’s eyes for any hesitation. For a moment, Eddie feared he would reject him. Then, Richie kissed him firmly, laughing as he did so. “Okay. I can have my stuff packed in half an hour. We’ll blow this popsicle stand and never look back.” Eddie giggled and as Richie backed away towards the door, he blew him another kiss. “See you soon.”

Eddie’s heart fluttered, as did the butterflies in his stomach. There was no room to think twice as he sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Snatching his backpack from the floor, he dumped out the binders and school books on his desk. He hurriedly ran back to the basement, cleaning out all of Frank’s true belongings. The “dad stuff” was a cover, and Eddie realized he could relate.

There were posters on his wall for movies and sports he couldn’t have cared less about. He played the part of a person to satisfy himself, and for the first time in his life, he was living the way he wanted to. No outside influence, not even from Richie Tozier.

That was exactly how he wanted it from now on.

Returning to his room, Eddie found his money and stuffed every last cent into the front pocket. He took as many outfits as he could compact into tube shapes, and filled the remainder of his space. He could always buy new clothes, or share with Richie.

Eddie finished packing long before his half hour was up. He lingered in the hallway, stealing glances at his mother’s bedroom. There was nothing he could think of that needed his attention. He didn’t want to leave a note. Vanishing without a trace might’ve been dramatic, but he wouldn’t be Sonia’s son without the flair.

“Oh!” Pausing, he turned and headed back into his room – possibly for the last time. A smile stretched across his face at the idea. No more shitty meals, no more fake medication, no more of the same dreary, shitty town. The moment he walked out of the house, he would be free.

First though, he needed his diary.

He moved the books on his desk, expecting the book to be right where he left it.

Except… it wasn’t.

 _I swore I set it right here…_ he thought, a hint of panic creeping in.

Rummaging through his books, he figured he could’ve overlooked it.

But that wasn’t the case either.

Eddie began tearing apart the room, his heart racing in his chest. If the diary wasn’t where he left it, then realistically, he would’ve had the journal in his backpack already. If it wasn’t _there_ , then that could only mean one thing.

Someone took it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are a little different in this chapter, but I really wanted to explore Frank's past. I hope I answered a few questions in regards to Eddie's powers. IANOWT is (hopefully) still going, so I had a lot of room to create an origin story. Fortunately, I had materials from It to balance that out. Recognize the spider and the turtle? ;)


	6. Chapter 6

_Don’t panic. Whatever you do, **don’t** panic, _Eddie thought. His breathing became labored instantly; his chest rose and fell, and if anyone were listening, they’d hear his heavy huffing. The echo of his heartbeat deafened him. His knees were close to giving out – he couldn’t feel his fingertips, and the numbness began to spread.

His diary was gone.

Not misplaced.

Not left in his locker, or Richie’s van.

Gone.

Potentially in the hands of someone who could ruin everything.

_Who would wanna do that?_

The question was innocent enough, and Eddie’s terror only worsened when he realized the list was long.

Well… not _quite_ – but it was long for a small town loser who kept himself mostly anonymous.

Eddie counted the seconds through taps on his thigh; he bit his lip and forced himself to breathe. He would’ve easily forgotten and knocked himself out if he didn’t take the extra precaution. The imagery should probably have been funny – Richie returning to find him asleep on his floor. Though, Richie wasn’t an idiot.

He undoubtedly would’ve tried to wake Eddie, and the panic would set in all over again.

Almost as if on cue, there was a sharp rapping of knuckles on his back door. Eddie froze, cold sweat breaking out across his forehead and clammy palms. Several minutes passed with him just _standing_ in the middle of his room, unsure how to proceed.

That had always been his problem though, hadn’t it? He couldn’t deal with his dad dying, so he floated in limbo until (fortunately… or unfortunately – the jury was still out) his powers developed and shoved him into a new direction. He couldn’t confront his mother about the phony medicine, and (again) if it weren’t for the supernatural development, he was positive that they would still be watching Family Feud reruns and eating half-cooked meatloaf.

Bolting downstairs, Eddie nearly slid across the linoleum floor of his kitchen. He yanked the door open, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he heaved. Richie’s smile faded; he had a backpack slung over one shoulder, but it fell to the floor as he walked in. Eddie shut the door a second too late, listening to the crickets chirping in the dark.

Or maybe they were cicadas.

Eddie hated insects, so he couldn’t be sure.

“Eds, what happened? You look like you saw a gho- did you see a _ghost_?!” Richie shouted, his eyes widening. Eddie stared at him blankly – his mind needed extra time to catch up with his body. It was too easily distracted by the ideas of someone reading his journal, and publishing the contents. His mother would weep and sign the papers to send him away, locking him up on a funny farm for the rest of his life. It didn't matter if he was a legal adult. Technically, he was living under her roof.

His hands balled into fists. She would’ve loved the opportunity to trap him.

Then again, so would the other suspects on his list.

“Someone has my diary. You didn’t see it in your van, did you?” Eddie asked, a tiny shred of hope present. Of course, it was immediately dashed when Richie shook his head. His apologetic stare was too much for Eddie, and his eyes darted down to their feet. “Okay… Okay…” Regardless of how much he repeated that under his breath, he was not okay.

“We can retrace our steps-”

“In the middle of the night?!” Eddie didn’t intend on sounding so frantic, but he couldn’t stop himself. Richie sighed, reaching out to place both hands on his shoulders. This helped to calm him down, though not much. Breathing in slowly, before blowing the small gust of air out, Richie stared intently into Eddie’s eyes to capture his full attention. Eddie began copying him, taking each breath carefully. He thought more about sucking the air into his lungs than he did about the panic, and within a few minutes, he was thinking rationally.

“Who could’ve taken it? You have an idea, right?” Richie questioned, clearly knowing the answer. He wouldn’t have asked to mock Eddie’s paranoia – he trusted Eddie. If he thought someone stole the diary, then someone must’ve done it.

Eddie wanted to pause for a moment to thank him. Aside from Frank, no one ever gave Eddie the credit he deserved. Richie was the first person to take him at his word – not even Bill could say he did that for every spiel of panic.

Shaking his head, thinking over his list, Eddie bit his lip.

“Mom, but she’s too obvious. I feel like if she took it, she would’ve done something by now. Like, she’d be home again and crying at me,” he said. His mouth twisted into a pout; he hated when Sonia cried. It didn’t make him feel guilty, but rather, it made him feel sick. With each teardrop, he was hit with more shame, until he couldn’t hold his head up. She’d engulf him in a hug, and that would be the end. He hated the cycle – they never talked about what their problems were. She would simply cry, and nothing would change.

“Who else?” Richie’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he thought of another face that loved to antagonize him.

“Mr. Sheldon,” he whispered, loud enough for Richie to hear. Their chemistry teacher carried a weird, personal vendetta against Eddie for no reason other than hating his father. The memory of his bizarre accusations choked Eddie – he hadn’t given it much thought, but now Mr. Sheldon’s hostility made sense. Frank caused trouble in class with his powers, and the old man was onto him. There was no substantial evidence, so nothing came of the threats, but he had been right all along.

Having the diary would give him some sort of proof though, and perhaps that would be enough to get Eddie in hot water.

“Okay, so we have your mom and our chemistry teacher. Who else?” Richie wasted no time; he prompted Eddie for more names, and he typed them on his cellphone. Again, Eddie was struck with the urge to stop and thank Richie. The situation felt unreal, and borderline absurd, but Richie dove in headfirst.

“Bowers. Senior or junior. They’re both fucking crazy,” Eddie huffed. He thought about Frank’s memory, shared with a young Wentworth Tozier. They stood up to Butch, and he never let go of the grudge. With Eddie’s incriminating diary entries, he could’ve easily helped his mother lock him up. A psycho like Butch would’ve loved nothing more than to strip him of his freedom – it was the reason men like him became cops in the first place.

“Bowers, Mr. Sheldon, Sonia… is that all, Eds?” His voice was soft. Comforting. Richie’s hand on Eddie’s shoulder felt right, like it was always meant to be there. Looking up, Eddie bit the inside of his cheek. With a heavy sigh, his eyes shut.

“Greta Keene,” he said, naming his last suspect. If _she_ had the diary, he supposed that wouldn’t have ruined his life. She could tell the school, but by the time she did, he and Richie would be gone. The worst possibility would’ve been her sharing the contents with her family. Sonia’s family. They had every reason to point and laugh, because after twenty years, they were right. Frank didn’t do her any favors, and she gave up her life of luxury to mother a freak.

He found it strange that despite how much he hated her, he wanted to defend Sonia.

He found it even more bizarre that he was so cavalier in the admission of hate.

His entire life had been spent rationalizing her behavior and actions towards him. Saying he was irritated with her, or felt suffocated, was like a running joke – similar to how TV dads were portrayed as being endlessly irritated by their children and wives. Though… there was truly nothing funny about that.

_I’m not a TV show,_ he thought, his head buzzing with noise that he couldn’t immediately sort out.

Nodding, Richie scratched his chin, his brow furrowed in concentration. After a moment, his eyes flickered up to look at Eddie. He waited semi-patiently, fighting the dread that so eagerly tried to resurface.

“I think we can stick around Derry for one more day. We can scope out the suspects, retrace our steps – there’s no way we couldn’t find the diary then,” Richie said, rubbing Eddie’s arm. He sounded so confident in the plan; Eddie couldn’t find it in himself to disagree. He opened his mouth to try protesting, but no sound came out. The chance of getting his diary back gave him too much hope – he couldn’t ruin it for himself.

_I’m too good at making myself miserable,_ he thought, chewing his bottom lip.

“That… works,” he sighed. There wasn’t much else in the way of choices.

Any rational person might’ve said “to hell with it,” and left the diary behind.

But did any rational person have powers?

Eddie wondered if Frank would understand – their journals were private. A random, wandering eye having the chance to read their secrets? That stripped the books of all meaning. It would leave them completely exposed. Violated. Eddie didn’t need the diary back because of his strange, nonsensical ramblings. He needed it because writing down his honest thoughts was the first time he had ever sincerely felt like himself. No one had the rights to that version of Eddie Kaspbrak. Not until he decided so.

He _wanted_ his diary back. There was no more room to keep making himself unhappy.

“Do you want me to stay over?” Richie asked, his question slicing through the murky cloud of thoughts Eddie had drowned himself in. Staring up at him through his lashes, he blinked once. Twice. Three times, before both of them leaned in for a kiss. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He cupped Eddie’s face in his hands, walking him backwards through the kitchen and to the staircase. They refused to break apart, taking several extra minutes to get to Eddie’s bedroom.

* * *

“ _You don’t have any right, Sonia-”_

“ _He’s my son too, Frank!” Sonia stopped her foot, her fists balled at her sides._

_Standing in the center of the basement, Eddie looked from one side of the room to the other. Sonia was backing away towards the stairs, while Frank paced frantically in and out of the shadows. The naked light bulb, which swung freely from the ceiling, could only cover so much of the cellar. Frank’s unused camping gear was kept mostly in the dark, along with his table saw._

_His real workbench, with the hidden compartment for his writing, was the only thing that needed light._

_Eddie tried to reach out and touch Frank’s shoulder, but his arms were lead weights, keeping him frozen in place._

“ _You’ve been LYING to me!” Frank roared, throwing something from his hands. Small, blue capsules hit the ground, which Eddie immediately recognized as his pills. Tugging at his hair, Frank finally stopped moving. Whirling around, he glared at Sonia. Loose pieces of spackle were trembling by his feet. “How did you-” He cut himself off, unable to get the words out. Sonia stared at him, any trace of her faux vulnerability gone. Straightening up, she folded her arms over her chest._

“ _I found the rocks you threw out. At first, I thought they were worth money. Then I found that page of your little notebook,” she confessed. Her voice was strange – it didn’t match anything that Eddie was used to. She tended to sound fussy. Needy. This voice was too sinister to belong to her. “For a while, I thought you were playing a big joke on me. Then I noticed Eddie…” At the mention of their son, Frank’s head snapped up._

“ _What about him?” he demanded. Now it was Frank who sounded small, rather than Sonia. The main difference was the sincerity in his tone._

“ _You said that when he started to develop_ _ **powers**_ _, you would take care of it,” she began, her jaw tight. The mention of these powers seemed to physically revolt her. Or maybe it was anger. Eddie's brow furrowed as he studied her expression. He'd seen this plenty of times before, but only now did he completely understand that she was **offended**. “I didn’t believe it until I saw him in the backyard. He was… making __his baseball_ _levitate. I had to bring him inside before anyone could catch him. That’s when it started.” Frank’s face twisted, but Eddie couldn’t understand why._

“ _How old was he? How long have you been doing this?” he questioned, though his voice was no louder than a whisper. Sonia looked away, obviously angry. “I thought it worked. I thought he was normal. That’s the only reason I chose you.” Eddie flinched at the disdain saturating Frank’s words. He always thought his parents had nothing in common, but he didn’t like seeing their hatred for each other so blatantly._

_“About twelve years now. He was six when I caught him,” she confessed, her own bitterness bleeding through. She smiled, knowing this would hurt Frank._

_Eddie wanted to interrupt; he realized suddenly that his parents were **old** in this dream. Vision. Whatever this was._

_They weren’t teenagers or new parents._

_This was Frank, the last time Eddie saw him alive._

_Before he could speak, the colors around him swirled. He watched as Sonia dug the teal gems from the trash in their backyard, coming across the discarded page in Frank’s journal. She found the map to the source, and a recipe for the drug Eddie had been taking his entire life. His stomach twisted, but he couldn’t do anything._

_He was back in the cellar as quickly as he had left._

_The ground shook more violently; Sonia began to notice._

“ _You’ve kept him drugged for twelve years…” Frank sounded crazed. Eddie sucked in a sharp breath when he realized there were tears in his eyes. “I created it. I-” He clenched his fists, sinking to his knees. Veins were visible in his forehead and neck. His eyes abruptly turned red as a blood vessel burst._

“ _Frank-”_

“AH!” Eddie bolted upright, drenched in a cold sweat.

Outside, the birds were chirping. Sunlight filtered in through the partially closed blinds. A split second of panic struck him, until he realized Richie wasn’t in bed with him. He yanked the covers over his chest, spotting a small, folded sheet of paper on his lap. Tilting his head, he opened the note, relief washing over him when he saw Richie’s signature.

_Had to sneak out before Sonia could catch us. Text me when you’re ready. I’ll be on standby. - xoxo Richie_

Though he wanted to smile, there was something nagging in the back of his mind. Shutting his eyes, he tried to remember his dream. He saw Frank and Sonia again, and he knew they were arguing about his fake medication… but he couldn’t think of what came next. Whatever happened had left him with a chilling sensation in his stomach; he thought he might throw up.

Climbing out of bed, he headed for the bathroom to shower. Eddie tried clearing his mind, but nothing would return to him. He understood that the ending of the dream was crucial, but he couldn’t explain why.

The water became ice cold before Eddie stepped out.

Sighing, he cut off the shower and yanked his towel from the rack. As he dried off, he grabbed his phone from the counter and opened his messages.

**[To: Richie]**

**10:52** _I need to spend this last day with my mom. I’ll come over as soon as I can._

Tossing the phone aside, Eddie checked his desk again in hopes that the diary would be there. Perhaps he overlooked it.

He knew there was no hope, but he tried anyway.

He was moving as though he were still in a dream – frustration began seeping in; he was sick of being so aimless. Eddie shut his eyes as he wandered through his own house, stopping at the base of the stairs. Sitting on the third step from the bottom, he rested his chin in his palms.

Focusing on the sounds outside, he closed his eyes.

While he didn’t know how much time passed, he knew it had to be enough for Sonia to wake up on her own. The moment he heard her floorboards creak, he began to sob. Tears erupted from his eyes, and he choked on whimpers that he’d held back for months. His body, wracked with spasms, was out of his control as he wept. When Sonia heard him, she rushed from her room and scooped him into her arms.

A familiar relief warmed him from the inside out. More than anything, he wanted to be comforted by his mother.

Truly, he did love her when she protected him.

Regardless of whether or not it was all bullshit.

A placebo in the form of a mother's love.

“I just want it all to stop, Ma,” he whimpered, burying his face in her shoulder. She smoothed his hair down, rubbing his back. “I want it all to go back to normal.” He didn’t remember crying at the funeral. Or in the days after. He wanted to, but any tears that surfaced were incredibly short-lived. They weren’t enough to stream down his face like they did in the movies.

He cried more over shots than he had his father’s death.

_How did Dad die?_

An explosion felt too simple.

Too easy of a lie.

“We’re gonna spend the day baking. How does that sound?” Sonia said, kissing the top of Eddie’s head. He breathed, and as he exhaled, the weight on his shoulders dissipated.

“I’ll turn the radio on,” he replied, smiling up at her. There was the tiniest voice in the back of his mind, screaming for him to stop this nonsense, but he couldn’t bring himself to listen. Running away sounded so fantastic last night, but now all he wanted was to be babied by his mother. Being confined and suffocated was a small price to pay for comfort.

He swallowed the sour taste as he would a pill, dutifully leaving his mother to turn on the TV and radio. They had a habit of alternating between the two. Sometimes they would roll out their homemade cookie dough while watching Family Feud and Three’s Company. Other times they would dance around the kitchen to songs like All She Wants to Do is Dance.

Sonia once told him that the first time she met Frank, she had been dancing to that song.

Eddie used to believe they were so happy.

Shoving any negative thoughts from his mind, Eddie plastered on a smile as he stirred the batter. Baking was something he knew inside and out. There were no curve balls to be thrown. No surprises. He needed the exact measurements and stability; his life had been turned upside down and the first step to taking it back would have to be this perfect half-cup of chocolate chips.

_You’re losing your fucking mind **worse** now,_ he thought. The rational, realistic side of his brain was attempting to claw its’ way out.

But no sir, he wasn’t going to let go of this peace just yet.

He supposed he should’ve known that his erratic behavior stemmed from the dream, but if he confessed that to himself, nothing good would come from it. Dread crept up his spine like a spider, threatening to bite him. Fear kept him grounded, despite how much he wanted to flee.

Together, he and Sonia baked two different cakes, and were now working on a batch of his favorite cookies. As promised, they spent the entire day working through his emotions with sweets. Neither of them touched the fruits of their labor, but that hardly mattered. He felt close to his mother again, which he had longed for since Frank’s death.

Eddie could play the part and keep his perfect day going.

It was just too bad Sonia couldn’t.

“I’m glad we’re doing this. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while,” she began, taking the bowl from Eddie. She added the chocolate chips, passing him a small tub of frosting for the cakes. Sonia watched him carefully as he worked, waiting a moment before focusing on her own task.

“Yeah?”

Eddie didn’t look up. His tongue poked between his lips as he concentrated, smoothing out the frosting along each side. Sonia was quiet for a minute. At first, she stirred the batter. Then she stopped, fishing something from her purse and sliding it across the table.

Staring at the blank envelope, Eddie’s brow rose.

“You should know that your father left… quite the inheritance for you,” she informed him. Immediately, Eddie’s stomach soured. He didn’t want to talk about this. “The account is open and in your name; that’s the bank card for it.” His mouth twisted – sure enough, when he emptied the contents, the card was the first thing to plop out. Wordlessly, he tucked it in his pocket. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Oh…”

Sonia just couldn’t leave it at that, however.

“I was thinking, maybe we could sell the house. There’s bad memories here now,” she suggested. The idea was innocent enough. She wasn’t wrong. “We could find something on West Broadway. Those houses are beautiful.” She beamed as she brought the cookie dough back to him, setting the bowl beside his cake. Eddie didn’t move.

Of course she wanted to go back to wealth. She wanted them to stay together, but mostly she wanted Frank’s money.

Now, Eddie’s money.

His mouth twisted; he supposed it truly wouldn’t be _that_ bad. For months, he wanted everything to go back to normal. If he couldn’t have his father back, he could at least repair the relationship with his mother. He missed the days when her arms left him feeling warm and safe instead of strangled. He longed for the times it was easy to love her, and he didn’t have to question whether or not she loved him.

Because he did question it, and quite often. Perhaps too often.

A voice in his head was shrieking at him, because it knew the truth. He never felt loved by Sonia.

_When are you gonna grow up, Eddie?_ he thought, though it was quite invasive.

There was a day – a Thursday, he recalled – when he wondered if he behaved the way he did solely for her approval, or if it was genuinely part of his personality. Rather than face his identity crisis, he left his room and joined her and Frank to watch a movie.

_Things can change_ , he thought, _I’m allowed to have both. She’ll love me, and I’ll be myself. This can work-_

Except he knew better.

After eighteen years, he felt he should’ve known better.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when he peered down into the bowl of mostly mixed cookie dough, and noticed specks of blue. Immediately, his brain tried justifying what he saw. Sprinkles. M&M’s, but crushed. Anything but his medication, which happened to be _exactly_ this color, and _not_ the color of any M&M or sprinkle he'd ever seen. He even took a second to question his sanity, which he had done plenty of times in the past few weeks.

However, there were more voices in his mind attempting to combat these defenses. Richie. Bill. _Frank_.

The people who cared about him most weren’t going to idly stand by while he walked into a trap.

“Mom?” he called out, cautiously pushing the bowl away as though it were a bomb ready to blow up. Sonia peeked over the door of the fridge, her head tilted. Her expression was innocent, until she took a good look at her son.

“What is it, Eddie-bear?” The use of his nickname sent a shiver down his spine. She never used the moniker to be playful or motherly. She only seemed to use it when he was in trouble. It was never stated that she was unhappy with him, but Eddie somehow always knew. Her mood and demeanor changed drastically, leaving him to walk on eggshells until she was back to her regular self. It was in the little things - like how aggressively she set down a bag of groceries or shut the car door.

Now that he thought about it, none of that behavior was anywhere _near_ normal.

Rising to his feet, Eddie approached the counter. His body was on autopilot as his mind screamed, begging him to stop. He knew he would find the proof to his accusation, and he wasn’t completely sure he wanted to.

“Did you put my medication in the batter?” he asked, shockingly calm. Sonia didn’t speak. She laughed, confused, but she didn’t say a word. Meanwhile, Eddie opened and shut each drawer, studying the contents for a brief second before moving on. Only when he reached for her purse, did Sonia finally answer.

“Eddie, you’re scaring me,” she said. Pausing, Eddie bit the inside of his cheek. Her word choice was interesting, as it always had been. She didn’t absolve herself of any blame. Instead, she chose to throw the shame and guilt on him. Frank always caved when she said she was afraid or worried – she made herself weak to stop him dead in his tracks. Eddie wondered why he would do that, but after a while, he just got used to how life was.

_Did she really break me down that bad?_ Eddie wondered, his brow furrowing.

“What part is scaring you, Ma? I should be scared. You’re…” Reaching into the purse, he pulled out the first item he could feel that resembled a canister. Sure enough, the orange bottle was in his fingertips, filled with his familiar blue pills. His name was printed in block letters on the label. “Drugging me.” At once, Sonia closed the fridge and took a step towards him.

“Eddie-”

“You know that I have powers,” he said thoughtlessly, causing her to freeze in her spot. Pulling her hand back, she stood up straighter. Her expression was unreadable, but he imagined his was too. Sighing, Sonia approached slowly, taking her purse. Eddie half expected her to snatch the medication from him, but instead, she rummaged through the bag.

His breath caught in his throat when she took out his diary.

“Eddie, I’m only doing this because I love you,” she said. The words echoed in his mind. He had once told himself the same thing. After watching a horror movie featuring a leper, he had a nightmare that Sonia was one. She chased him into an alley and began feasting on him. He remembered thinking in the dream that she only ate him because she loved him. Although wildly disturbing, he brushed it off as a weird conjuring from his subconscious. He thought about it on the occasions that she stifled him, but he wouldn’t linger on it.

Probably because he knew, deep down, that she didn’t love him at all.

“What happened to Dad?” he demanded, the questions coming out on their own accord. Eddie shut his eyes, gripping the edge of the counter. If he thought hard enough, he could see the blurry images of Sonia and Frank in the basement. Last night’s dream had an ending; he needed to remember.

He could see Frank _and the veins on his forehead and neck. These were veins that never should’ve protruded from a regular human head. His eyes were blood red – the vessels popped. His fists were clenched tight enough to draw blood._

“ _Frank…” Sonia’s voice sounded off. She wasn’t afraid like she claimed to be. Eddie turned and studied her, though he didn’t need to for long. Her mouth curved up into a satisfied grin. “You might’ve married me because you think I’m average, but I **am** the one who’s been keeping your son normal behind your back. Right under your nose, really. You should thank me – I did the job you wanted, didn’t I?” She sneered at him; Eddie pursed his lips. He wanted to cry at the sight of them. They really did hate each other. “Of course, I couldn’t have done it without your antidote.”_

_She was taunting him._

_Eddie realized that now. She did this to everyone she wanted to rile. She did it to **him**. He opened his mouth – he wanted to beg her to stop. Frank was suffering enough. He didn’t mean to make the pill that would suppress Eddie for his entire life. He didn’t want any of this._

“ _Dad-”_

_His voice echoed in his own ears, drowning out the sound of ripping skin and splattering blood. A spray of crimson liquid splashed over the walls and on Sonia’s dress and face. Eddie felt droplets sprinkling onto his cheeks._

Staggering back, Eddie stared at his mother, his eyes wide with shock. Her expression was no longer that of a helpless housewife. She didn’t resemble his mother anymore – she looked like the same person, but he suddenly understood _that_ was what made her so terrifying. His mother had always been this menacing. She had always been the scary villain.

Nowhere was home without Frank.

He was the safe and secure net which contained Sonia’s evil.

“You-”

“Eddie, finish baking these cookies with me. You need them-”

“You _killed_ him-”

“He killed himself!” Sonia barked, stomping her foot. Her brow knitted together as she donned her worried expression. “I don’t want the same to happen to you!” She stepped forward, and Eddie backed away again at the same time. He hit the wall, backed into a convenient corner for her. “Eddie, please calm down.” He shut his eyes, his hands balling into fists.

Terror flooded through his entire body. He didn’t want to die the same way Frank did.

He thought about his plan to run away with Richie, and a sense of peace settled in his chest. The sound of his heartbeat filled his eardrums, and he wished he was in the Tozier house. Running away sounded amazing. No more Derry. No more Sonia.

Just him and Richie.

Just him and the memories of his dad.

Just him and the two people who wanted to help him with his powers.

“Stay away-!”  
“Eddie-bear!”

Images of the last six months flashed through his mind. The funeral. The basement. Bill and Greta. His idiot chemistry teacher. Psychotic Butch and Henry Bowers. Frank’s last smile. His promise that he’d see Eddie in the morning. Richie offering an edible. His laugh. His goofy grin and overbite.

All he could hear was the shuffling of her feet as she took each precarious step, and the static from the radio. Abruptly, the music had vanished, and he suspected it was _his_ doing. The thoughts were flashing faster in his head, with no sign of slowing down.

Everyone whispered about him. Bill completely ignored him for a stupid girl. Eddie had to figure out mostly on his own that he was gay. He had to worry about what his mother would think.

His fucking mother.

Sonia.

Sonia was coming closer with his medicine, which he would swallow like a good boy.

The radio static became louder – almost painfully so.

“NO!” he screamed louder than he intended. The lights flickered, and again he heard the sickening sound of ripping skin and splattering organs.

When he opened his eyes, he expected to see Sonia in front of him. Or to just be fucking dead.

Instead, all he saw were her legs and shoes. Her dress lied in pieces, and so did she. Her glasses were beside his feet, drenched in blood. _He_ was drenched in blood. His red shirt was an even darker shade of scarlet, and the smell filled his nostrils.

Gagging, he nearly stepped into the pool of blood. A strangled scream escaped him as he fell back into the hallway. Blood was everywhere – it stained her favorite curtains and the Pepto-Bismol pink wallpaper. It was all over her pastel kitchen appliances and mismatched chairs. A droplet slid down his nose and landed on his lip.

Eddie snapped out of his trance, and immediately, the radio static cleared. The B-52’s “Private Idaho” began playing, and a surge of adrenaline rushed through his veins.

His head was empty, completely devoid of thought as he ascended the stairs to fetch his bag. He dragged it down each step carelessly, pausing before he continued to the front door. There was too much of a chance people would see him, and in his zombified state, he understood he didn’t want that. Silently, he trudged to the back, sidestepping the blood and torn remains of his mother. Her hand was twitching, but he refused to look.

He paused only to pick up his diary, amazed that it had been spared from the rain of guts. Tucking the book at his side, he walked out for the last time. His feet carried him across the lawn and over the thinning hedges Sonia had planted to keep them separate from their neighbors.

When he knocked on the Tozier’s patio door, he didn’t expect them to hear. He hardly realized Maggie was there until she shrieked.

“Eddie?!”

There was a crash – she dropped the plate she was holding, and glass shattered everywhere. He closed his eyes, though he couldn’t stop himself from seeing the image of his mother exploding.

“Oh, God, Eddie – get him inside! Maggie, bring him in!” Wentworth’s voice wasn’t what Eddie remembered from his dreams. He hadn’t actually heard Richie’s father speak personally – he only heard him through Frank’s ears. This version of Wentworth sounded too serious, but he supposed his assessment wasn’t being entirely fair.

After all, there was a blood-soaked boy in his backyard.

“Mom’s dead,” he mumbled, staring straight ahead.

Nothing about Eddie Kaspbrak was normal – he established this to himself in the last couple weeks.

But he expected more of a reaction from himself when Sonia died. _Especially_ considering he was the one who killed her. She was the one who goaded Frank into killing himself though, so maybe she had it coming. She was trying to drug Eddie. It was self-defense.

He had to confess though, the majority of him was relieved.

He could leave, and no one would come after him.

There was no proof that he killed Sonia, and there never would be. How would it be possible? If Sonia wasn’t convicted for Frank’s death, then he wouldn’t be for hers.

He was suddenly a free man, with his entire future ahead of him.

For the first time in his life, he was able to breathe.

“Eds, are you okay?” Richie asked, concern in his eyes. He wiped Eddie’s face with a wet rag, while Maggie and Wentworth spoke in the other room. Mrs. Tozier glanced at him sadly, bringing him a spare t-shirt. When Eddie didn’t move, Richie took the clothing and said, “I’m gonna help you out of this, okay?” All he could do was nod and lift his arms while Richie removed the bloody shirt. He cleaned off the stains on Eddie’s pale skin before tugging the new top over his head.

“Richie, if anyone asks, you and Eddie were here all night. Do you understand?” Wentworth demanded. Richie glanced from Eddie to his father, nodding curtly. Placing a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, he squeezed. “We’ll help you, okay? Richie told me everything, and I- I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to you sooner. I didn’t know if Frank-” His throat closed; Eddie could hear him struggling to speak.

“Thank you,” he whispered, staring at Wentworth earnestly. More than anything, he wanted to ask about his father.

_What was he like as a kid? Did we enjoy the same things? Was he happy?_

Eddie hugged his diary to his chest, relieved to have it back.

He didn’t notice until a few minutes too late that Wentworth was burning his bloody clothes in the fire pit outside. He roasted marshmallows over the flames, using four separate sticks. One for each of them. Eddie thought he should’ve been surprised by how committed the entire Tozier family was to helping him evade murder charges, but he couldn’t help thinking of Frank. He told Wentworth everything, including his reasoning for marrying Sonia. Wentworth tried to stop him…

_Maybe he knew what happened to Dad. Maybe he told his wife. That's what healthy couples do, right?_

Eddie’s eyes burned with tears.

“Hi, yes, this is Margaret Tozier. I’m at 4412 Jackson Street, and I’d like to report a disturbance at the residence next door,” Maggie said, her phone pressed to her ear. She nodded, though the person at the other end couldn’t see. “Yes, the house where Mr. Kaspbrak… Yes.” Her eyes flickered to Eddie, then back down. “I think Sonia’s over there. Her son is here, yes; he’s been playing video games with my son all day.” She added a chuckle, as if to say _you know how boys are_.

Before Eddie could say anything, Wentworth came back with a toasted marshmallow for both him and Richie.

“Eat up – you’ll be fine,” he said. Pausing, he crouched down slightly to be level with Eddie. “Are you okay?” Eddie sucked in a breath, because strangely enough, the question reminded him of Frank. He and Wentworth gave off the same energy – Eddie was abruptly overwhelmed with a longing to see his dad.

Shutting his eyes, he threw his arms around Wentworth.

“I just miss him,” he mumbled, failing to hold back his tears. Although surprised, Wentworth nodded and rubbed his back.

“You and me both, kid,” he replied.

By the time Eddie calmed down, the police were knocking at the Tozier’s door. Maggie answered, feigning worry as she invited the officers in. She covered her mouth in horror when they told her what they found, and Wentworth fell into his recliner. Eddie and Richie hid upstairs, listening at the edge of the hall.

“The boy – you said he’s been here all afternoon?”

Eddie’s throat tightened when he realized it was Butch. Richie recognized it as well, and squeezed Eddie’s hand.

“He’s got nothing, Eds. We’re gonna take care of this. I promise,” he whispered. For a moment, Eddie didn’t know what to say. Then, he decided it was best to say nothing at all. He nodded, leaning over to rest his head on Richie’s shoulder. “If you still wanna run away, I’ll go with you.” At this, Eddie’s eyes widened. Bewildered, he stared at Richie.

“I… You didn’t see what I did,” he whimpered. Only now did he realize what had paralyzed him into a state of near-catatonia earlier. He didn’t care about killing his mother. Maybe he would later, and he would need extensive therapy to overcome it.

Or maybe he wouldn’t, and he would be able to move on under his own terms.

The problem was the future itself. He needed to control his powers, or else hurt someone he actually cared about. He wouldn’t have blamed Richie if his mind had been changed.

“Eddie, you severely overestimate how much I like your mom,” Richie said, running a thumb over the back of Eddie’s hand. His brow furrowed, and he bit down hard on his lip. It took him several seconds to accept that Richie wasn’t joking.

“You’re not afraid?” he asked. Without missing a beat, Richie shook his head.

“You know how to control yourself. I know you do,” he insisted. Squeezing Eddie’s hand, he glanced downstairs and listened to what his parents were saying. The door closed, and the talking continued, but without the police. Eddie suspected they would return, but he knew they had nothing on him. He hadn’t wasted much time being concerned about that. “I’ve known you my entire life, Eds. I’ve seen what your mom does to you. I saw what she did to Frank. _My_ dad would complain about it, and I never understood until I started to complain too. If you hadn’t done it, she would’ve found some other way to stop you from leaving.” Richie could’ve easily been pulling the speech from his ass, but Eddie didn’t think so.

He was right.

The proof was in the pudding. Or technically, cookie dough.

“Did you mean it when you said we could still leave?” Eddie asked quietly, his expression grateful as he turned to face Richie.

“As soon as the cops are gone, I’ll start the van,” he promised.

Eddie’s mouth began curving up into a smile. He could see the bank card Sonia had given him, set safely on the Tozier's kitchen table with the other contents in his pockets before Wentworth burned the evidence.

He supposed he should’ve felt crazed.

Out of his mind.

But instead, he imagined himself as a superhero, defeating the evil villain from his origin story.

His first taste of freedom was better than any stupid cookie.

_Dear diary,_

_I don’t wanna be in Derry anymore, and I’m done doing the things I don’t wanna do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for reading! I hope you had as much fun as I did with this story. Since there isn't much information on a second season, and the comic ending sucked, I wanted to meet somewhere in the middle of all that. I wasn't gonna have Eddie blow himself up! No ma'am Pam, not here. I gave him the freedom he deserved and a semi-open ending in case we *do* get a second season and I have the motivation to play around with this concept more.


End file.
